Scenes from Domestic Life
by Domini Porter
Summary: It's just precious, you guys. Domesticated, adorable, with instances of crazy hot smut. Totally unrelated to established plot, instead taking place in a universe where everything is Rizzles and nothing hurts. It's primarily T, except chapters 1, 2, 8, and 9, which are *probably* best suited to audiences who feel mature.
1. The Kitchen

**The Kitchen**

"Jane!" Maura swatted the other woman's hand away from where it had been moving to tug at the strings of her apron.

"What?" Jane cried in mock-defensiveness. "I wasn't even _doing_ anything!"

"I have to finish dipping this biscotti," Maura chided. "My mother—_both_ of my mothers—will be here-"

"—in two days," Jane finished. "And technically I'd say all three of your mothers will be here," she said, darting around Maura to swipe her finger in the warm chocolate melting on the stove.

"_Technically,_" Maura said, swatting at Jane's hand again, "Angela is not my mother."

"She lives in your house. She folds your laundry. She nags you about putting old socks filled with beans next to the doorjambs to keep out drafts. At this point she's more your mother than mine, so thank you for that." Jane went for another taste of chocolate, and Maura grabbed her wrist.

"Jane," she murmured in the voice that always made the hair on the back of Jane's neck stand up.

"Yes, Maura," Jane whispered.

Maura wiped her hands on a dishtowel and placed them on Jane's hips, sliding up close to her. Jane swallowed hard. "You are in my way."

"You, uh, got some chocolate on your face," Jane said, trying to pretend her mouth wasn't suddenly painfully dry.

"Not possible," Maura said sweetly. "I'm very tidy in the kitchen."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Jane raised her eyebrow, shifting her hips beneath Maura's hands. She leaned in close, watched Maura's eyes slide closed. Taking advantage of the moment, she quickly stuck her finger in the chocolate pot and daubed it on Maura's cheek. "Told you."

"Jane!"

"Here, let me," Jane said, cupping Maura's face in her hands and leaning in, pausing just slightly before licking the spot of chocolate away. Maura sighed softly, her hands tensing at Jane's waist.

"Jane," she murmured again in that same velvety voice.

"Yes, Maura," Jane whispered.

"You licked my face."

"Only 'cause it had chocolate on it," Jane said defensively.

"There was only chocolate on my face because _you_ put there," Maura shot back, trying to stifle her grin.

Jane shrugged. "Tastes better this way," she said, lightly pressing her lips to the spot.

Maura couldn't suppress her smile any longer. "Babe, I've got to get this done. Now do you want to help, or do you want to watch TV and not distract me?"

Jane pretended to think for a moment. "I want . . . to watch TV."

"Okay," Maura said. "There's beer in the fridge, and a ballgame in ten minutes."

Jane ducked in and planted a firm kiss on Maura's other cheek. "You're perfect."

"No," Maura replied, trying not to blush. "I'm a perfection_ist_. There's a slight but crucial difference."

"Whatever," Jane said, heading for the refrigerator. "You're perfect."

"And _you_," Maura said, retying the strings of her apron, "are distracting."

Jane shrugged again as she moved back across the kitchen. _Long bones, _she mouthed, delivering a light smack to Maura's rear and a tug on the apron strings. She chuckled at Maura's exasperated sigh, and settled on the couch.

After a monumentally dull first three innings, Jane peeked behind her to check if Maura was still attending to her preparations. She watched for a moment to make sure Maura wasn't paying attention to what she was doing, then slipped quietly off the couch and out of the room.

Maura, who always paid attention to what Jane was doing, sighed and shook her head, smiling. She suspected a deliberate distraction was imminent, and quickly finished wiping down the countertops. She had moved on to straightening out the racks of perfectly uniform biscotti when she sensed a presence behind her.

"Do I look like I'm done?" She flicked the dishtowel in the direction of Jane's ribs, but the other woman didn't say anything. Instead, she leaned in, pressing the top of her body against Maura, sliding her hands down her waist and over her hips. Jane smiled as she felt Maura shiver almost imperceptibly beneath her fingers. "I'm . . . very busy," Maura breathed, trying to twist around and face Jane, who tightened her grip on Maura's hips, working her thumbs at the small of Maura's back. "I've got a lot left to-"

"Don't turn around," Jane whispered, her voice dark and rich. "I don't want to ruin the surprise."

"What surprise?" Maura tried to sound impatient, interrupted, immune to Jane's touch, but could feel herself melting as Jane released her, placing one hand on her back briefly as a reminder to stay where she was. Maura bit her lip in anticipation, and her breath caught slightly in her throat when a thin black band appeared in front of her eyes. She focused hard on not swooning into Jane as the blindfold was arranged and tied firmly at the back of her head.

"This certainly is a surprise," she murmured, wriggling against Jane's body. She shifted her hips as Jane's hands slid back over them, and gasped lightly when she felt Jane's thumbs hooking the hem of her skirt up. She briefly wished she'd checked to make sure the doors were locked and the blinds closed, but stopped caring when she felt the soft touch of cool air on her exposed thighs.

"This . . . is also a surprise," Jane said, half-admiringly. "Why Dr. Isles, no drawers, I'm positively scandalized."

"In this skirt?" Maura couldn't help the incredulity in her voice. "Jane, visible panty lines—"

"Ugh, I hate that word," Jane cut in.

"So there's a host of reasons it's best I'm not wearing any, then." Maura reached behind her, wanted to touch Jane's body, to make her feel the same delicious sensations Jane was making her feel, but Jane caught her hand and guided it gently back to the edge of the counter. "No moving" Jane whispered.

"Okay," Maura whispered back. She gripped the edge of the counter rhythmically, flexing and contracting to match the pulse rushing through her body. Jane's hands were fluttering lightly over her skin, teasing her, Maura was holding on to the counter for dear life as she sensed Jane doing . . . something . . . behind her, something that didn't involve touching her, something that involved zippers and the soft rustle of cloth. Something that involved a sudden particular pressure, distinctly non-biological. "Oh!" she gasped, loudly enough to make Jane pause for a moment. "Don't stop," Maura said, her voice caught between a whisper and a moan.

"I haven't even started yet," Jane rumbled, her mouth so close to Maura's ear she could feel Jane's lips faintly brushing across her sensitized skin, making her knees nearly give out. Jane wrapped her arm around Maura's waist, holding her upright against the counter, crushing against her.

"Wait," Maura breathed.

"What?" Jane tensed, afraid she'd done something wrong.

"Is that the new one?"

"What?"

"The new . . . you know." Jane could feel Maura's blush, which she found infinitely amusing.

"Yes, it is the new _you know_," she replied, not trying to hide her snicker. "Walking in here from your bedroom was an adventure, let me tell you."

"Oh good," Maura said, her voice suddenly bright and excited. "I've been wanting to try it! I mean, you read the reviews but it's not the sort of thing you can really know for sure about until you've—"

"Maura." Jane's exasperation was tinged with adoration, but she still rolled her eyes. "Do you think we can save the product review for _after_ we've . . . you know . . ." she drifted off meaningfully, trailing the tips of her fingers up the inside of Maura's thigh.

"Fucked?" Maura's voice shifted abruptly into a liquid, throaty growl, the kind that made Jane unable to focus on anything except the sensation of Maura pushing back into her, the heat of her body, the way she swiveled her hips, groaned and sighed faintly but didn't move, not really, the way she waited for Jane to—

"Fuck me, Jane," Maura said, the words low, feral, vibrating with desire. Then, half a second later, she seemed to catch herself. "Please," she whispered.

Jane wasn't sure how she managed to stay upright. "You are _perfect_," she breathed, her mouth settled next to Maura's ear, one hand brushing the soft golden hair away from her smooth neck, traveling down to the ridge of her collarbone, traversing the short distance to the swell of her breast. Maura sighed and trembled. Jane paused a moment longer, relishing Maura's barely-restrained impatience. Her hand drifted slowly over Maura's breast, cupping it briefly, before continuing downward, splaying her fingers across the span of Maura's stomach, closing her eyes to take in the tactile wonder of the thin slip of silk separating her skin from Maura's, how it amplified the heat of Maura's body.

Maura, who was whimpering in her arms, a sound both helpless and hungry, Maura, who was squeezing the countertop so hard Jane could swear she heard it cracking. Maura, who was—

"Please, Jane," she said again, almost crooned, pushed back a little more insistently against her.

"Please what, Maura?" Jane wasn't sure how she felt about asking Maura to beg, it seemed a little unlike both of them, somehow, but the way Maura was asking, the sound of her voice, was making Jane's heart beat faster and harder than anything she'd experienced, short of shooting herself in the gut.

"Please . . . please . . ." Maura was having trouble making whole words, the way Jane's hands were moving over her body, knowing that any moment Jane would thrust forward and—

Jane nuzzled Maura's neck, lifting her free hand, the one not latched around Maura's waist, to stroke her hair. "Please _what_, Maura?" she whispered roughly, catching a lock in her finger and twisting it just slightly. Maura shivered and jerked forward, crying out involuntarily as Jane increased the tension. "Please what?"

"Fuck me, Jane." Maura's breath was ragged, the ache in her voice sending ripples up and down Jane's whole body. "Please."

"I could do that," Jane murmured directly into Maura's ear, still twisting the lock of hair in her fingers. Maura's head tilted back, exposing the length of her throat. She bit her lip and whimpered again, arching against Jane, taut as a bowstring.

"So do it," she growled.

Jane had a vague notion that she ought to correct Maura's manners but the way her body was angled, the way her mouth was so near Jane's mouth, the way her hips were working against Jane's hips, the way her heartbeat was making her whole body tremble visibly, Jane felt such deference to propriety was hardly necessary. Slowly, carefully, she shifted her hips, not wanting to let Maura go, keeping her pressed tightly between her own body and the counter, keeping a loose handful of her hair, the way Maura sighed when Jane tugged on it slightly, the way Maura was writhing with an urgency that bordered on desperation—

"Oh God, Jane," Maura cried, her voice catching in a hundred different places. She felt as though her body would burst into flame, Jane pushing into her, Jane holding her tightly, Jane's hot breath on her neck, her cheek, Maura was certain when it was all over they'd find her fingerprints embedded in the granite countertop an inch deep. "Oh Jane, oh, oh . . ."

"Maura," Jane mumbled, or what sounded like her name. She couldn't force coherent sounds from her mouth, only half-words and fevered breath. Her body was moving on its own, without her help, it was moving with Maura's body, they were moving so intensely the biscotti were inching across the counter.

Maura gasped something unintelligible, straining hard against Jane, against the granite. Jane twisted the hand tangled in Maura's hair sharply and the resulting cry, with all its animal lust, was enough to push Jane over the edge. She clung to Maura, her mouth pressed against Maura's throat, tasting the salt of her sweat as she writhed and sighed.

They stood, supported by the complicit countertop, unwilling and unable to disentangle from each other for a long moment. Finally, Jane released Maura's hair, stroking it softly.

"So?"

"I can't-" Maura was still catching her breath—"I can't really have an informed opinion until I've done more field testing."

"Mmm?" Jane murmured, laying a path of soft kisses up and down Maura's neck.

"_Rigorous_ testing," Maura said, reaching up for her blindfold.

"Hey now," Jane broke in, catching Maura's hand and interlacing it with her own fingers. "Nobody said you could take that off."

"But-"

"You don't want to skew your results, Doctor," Jane teased, licking Maura's earlobe. Maura shivered, grinning.

"There are a number of variables to consider, Detective," she said. "This blindfold is just one of many. Location, duration, intensity, all these things must be taken into account."

"They will be," Jane replied. "I'm nothing if not a thorough investigator."

"And what does that make me?" Maura huffed, finally turning around to face her, blindfold still in place.

"Fascinating," Jane said, glad Maura couldn't see her blushing. "Come on, Doc. We've got that review to write, and we'd better get cracking if it's going to be thoroughly researched."

"But the biscotti-"

"—is not going to enjoy this nearly as much as you will. I promise." She kissed Maura lightly, tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, and led her out of the room.


	2. The Study

**The Study**

"Maura?"

"Yes, Jane?"

"Have you seen this?"

Maura sighed, not looking up from her well-thumbed copy of _Infectious Diseases, Vol. 28._ "What is it?"

"I think you should look."

"I think you should tell me."

There was a short pause, which Maura interpreted as pouting. "But really, babe-"

Still not looking, Maura sighed again and pointedly turned the page. "Is it something on you, or is it a thing you're looking at?"

"It's a thing I'm looking at."

"This is my house, Jane," she said evenly. "I'm sure I've seen it."

"If you'd seen it, why would I be trying to get you to look at it?" Jane huffed.

"Jane," Maura said again, not lifting her eyes from the page. "While I appreciate your attempts at logic-"

"Hey now," Jane huffed again. "What do you mean, "attempts at logic"? I'm a homicide detective, logic is my bread and butter."

"I always thought you said your gut was your bread and butter," Maura replied, turning another page.

"I always thought you hated it when I talk about my gut," Jane shot back.

"I do," Maura said, still feigning deep interest in _Hypotheses and Results in Clinical Trials of Primary Pathogenic Host Response_, even though she'd read it four times already.

There was a short pause. Maura could feel Jane buzzing with the need for attention, but allowed herself to peruse the cited sources with more leisure than usual.

"Maura."

"Yes, Jane?"

"I really need you to look at this thing." Jane's voice was deadly serious.

"Is it life-threatening?"

"Maybe."

"Does it involve _Acanthocephala_?"

Another pause.

"Since I don't know what that is, I'm going to say no."

Maura smirked just slightly. "Well, this does," she said, holding her journal a little higher, still not looking up.

"Fine," Jane said. "Don't look. Forget I said anything."

"All right," Maura replied.

Moments inched by, and Maura was no longer registering the words on the page. Her curiosity piqued, she scanned the same paragraph three times. She heard Jane shift restlessly on the sofa across the room, patting the cushions and sighing repeatedly, each exhalation slightly more theatrical than the last.

"Maura," Jane said again, finally.

"What?" Maura finally snapped the journal shut and set it on the armrest, eyeing her with what she felt was a successful approximation of a frustration she had long learned to abandon, at least when it came to Jane.

"Oh good, you've decided to join me," Jane teased.

"What is this potentially life-threatening thing I'm supposed to be looking at?" Maura sighed, privately pleased that Jane, despite her many potentially irritating qualities, was sitting across from her in Maura's understated study. Maura was always privately pleased when Jane was in her house, even when it involved picking up dirty socks.

Jane blushed and glanced away. Maura raised her eyebrow, bit her lower lip. Jane saw her do it, and blushed more deeply.

"Is it embarrassing?"

"No."

"Then why are you blushing?"

Jane squirmed on the sofa, crossing her arms. "Well, _now_ I'm kind of embarrassed."

"Jane," Maura said, allowing herself to get a little irritated. Jane shrugged.

"It's just you, is all," she mumbled.

Maura couldn't suppress her grin in time to keep pretending she was too busy to pay attention. "Oh, Jane," she said, before—

"-wait, you think I'm life-threatening?"

Jane rolled her eyes and tossed her head back, groaning. Maura bit her lip again at the sight.

"No. Well-"

"Well what?"

"Well, I've almost died on account of you more than once. Technically. But I mean it's cool, I'd—well, I mean . . ."

"What _do_ you mean, Jane?" Maura could've been angry, could've been hurt, but Jane was fumbling with her words, which meant she didn't mean to say it that way. Maura was privately pleased she knew that much.

"I mean . . . uh . . ." Jane drifted off, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Jane."

"Yes, Maura?"

"Would it be easier for you to show me what it is you mean?" Maura knew Jane preferred action to words. It was one of Maura's favorite things about her.

Jane smiled widely, pushing herself off the couch and covering the distance between them with three long strides. She hesitated in front of Maura's armchair before dropping to her knees, which made Maura's heartbeat quicken and her knees weak; she was glad she was already sitting down. Maura's heart always beat faster when Jane was close to her; years of working in close proximity had made her accept it as normal.

Jane reached up and stroked the soft curve of Maura's cheek, her fingertips brushing softly down her jawline, her thumb drifting across Maura's lips.

"I'd die for you, you know," Jane said, and Maura could tell she was trying to be offhand.

"I know," Maura whispered, smiling gently. "I hope you never have to."

"Me either," Jane laughed. Maura was happy when she could make Jane laugh, even if she wasn't always sure what it was she'd done to make that happen, exactly.

Jane was sitting back on her knees at Maura's feet, her hands on Maura's legs, making tiny circles with her thumbs across Maura's bare skin. "So I was watching you read your magazine," she said, her voice clearer.

"Jane," Maura sighed, "_People_ is a magazine. This," she tapped the cover of _Infectious Diseases, Vol. 28_, "is a peer-reviewed journal of scientific research."

"It's got a paper cover and shiny pages," Jane sniffed, "it's a magazine." She slid one hand farther up Maura's thigh, her fingertips flirting with the hem of Maura's skirt. Maura let her eyes slide closed, no longer invested in the pretense of annoyance.

"It's a journal," she murmured.

"Anyway," Jane said in the tone that meant she was determined to be right, "I was watching you read your magazine-"

"Journal."

"—magazine, and I was thinking to myself 'gosh, she's pretty.'"

Maura smiled and relaxed back into her chair. She wanted to say something because it seemed right, to say _thank you_ or _you're so beautiful it breaks my heart_, but she said nothing, let the way her hips shifted and her breath caught speak for her. She could tell Jane had understood when she felt the soft heat of Jane's lips pressed against the inside of her knee.

Maura sighed without meaning to, without caring. She loved more than anything the way Jane touched her, as though she were the most precious and delicate thing in the world. Jane's fingers playing at her hem, teasing over and under, running along the stitching. Jane's mouth alternating back and forth between Maura's knees, each kiss moving slightly higher, until Maura felt Jane's curls spilling down her calves. Maura murmuring wordlessly, faintly gripping the arms of her chair, parting her legs slightly to allow Jane's explorations more territory.

"I was thinking to myself," Jane mumbled against the smooth skin of Maura's inner thigh, "'gosh, she's pretty, and I wonder what she'd do if I just walked right over there and . . ."

Jane paused. Maura lifted one hand from the armrest, letting her eyes slide open, stealing a glance at the glossy black crown of Jane's head before settling her hand there, gently twining her fingers through the long strands of Jane's hair. Maura shivered when Jane exhaled, the soft puff of breath against her skin sending ripples of sensation through her whole body.

"And did what, Jane?" Maura whispered, her hand slipping down to Jane's neck, her fingers tracing the faint swells of Jane's spine. The slippery mass of Jane's hair pooled in Maura's lap as Jane carefully worked the hem of Maura's skirt higher. Maura shifted obligingly, quivering, gently pressing at the back of Jane's head, urging her on.

" . . . if I just walked right over there and got on my knees and told her so myself." Jane slid one hand under Maura's leg, deftly navigating her skirt, until she was pressing her hand to the small of Maura's back, the other sliding up and down the length of her thigh. Maura pushed her hips forward, pitching the rest of her body back, arching slightly against the chair. Her skirt was high on her hips, almost completely at her waist. Her hand clutching at Jane's head. Maura was not trying to restrain herself; the heat of Jane's mouth on her skin made her writhe and gasp like nothing else and she wanted this, more than anything.

Every time she wants this feeling more than she has ever wanted anything.

"Jane," she breathed, her other hand moving to Jane's head.

"Gosh," Jane whispered, her lips not leaving Maura's skin, "you're pretty."

Maura could feel the words ricochet through her whole body, vibrating from her fingertips to her toes, spinning back and pooling at her core. Jane's fingers were pressing into her skin, both of Jane's hands on her waist then the left sliding down, dragging across Maura's hip, Maura's own hands tangling themselves more and more tightly in Jane's hair, pulling Jane closer, wanting Jane to be—

And Maura was moaning and twisting in her chair, one leg wrapping itself around Jane's shoulders, even the subtle rhythmic shifting of Jane's shoulders making Maura shudder. Jane's tongue finding Maura's most sensitive places, making Maura cry out, making Maura clutch at Jane, push her as close as possible, Jane's hands holding her tightly, Maura can feel each of Jane's fingers pressing into her flesh, each individual one claiming her, and Jane's tongue inside of her—

Maura arched, her voice ragged as she cried out Jane's name. Jane not stopping, her mouth and hands making Maura gasp and whimper, making her thrust against Jane.

_Infectious Diseases, Vol. 28_ fell to the floor with a dull thud. Neither of them heard it.

Maura collapsed back into her chair, her breathing shallow, uneven. Her hair had flown loose, coppery strands glimmering with sweat. Jane was leaving a trail of gentle kisses on her thighs, the firm pressure of her hands now a soft caress. Maura's hands slipped down to cup Jane's chin, inviting her up. Jane stood just long enough to reposition herself, one knee on either side of Maura's body, straddling her. Jane's hands drifted from the crown of Maura's head to her face, her throat, skimming over her breasts, her waist. Jane brought her hands back up to Maura's face, leaned down, kissed her in the way that obliterated even the way Jane had just made her body feel. Maura was unable to do anything but receive Jane's kiss, was too drained and too filled with feeling.

Every time she wants this feeling more than she has ever wanted anything. Jane's mouth on hers, Jane's hands cradling her head, holding on to her as though she were the only thing, the only thing—

And then Jane pulled away.

"Jane?" Maura managed to whisper.

Jane started to laugh. Maura was vaguely happy, though she didn't really know why.

"Uh, well, maybe you should look," Jane tried.

"Not again, Jane," Maura groaned. "This time, just tell me."

"I hope the turtle likes magazines," Jane snickered, gently turning Maura's chin to the right.

"He's a _tortoise_, Jane," Maura sighed as the tortoise slowly ripped another small piece of the cover off. "And it's a journal. Bass, stop it."

"You think the turtle is listening?"

"Obviously nobody in this house listens to me, not you _or_ the tortoise."

"I'm listening," Jane said, suddenly quiet. Maura turned back to face her, Jane's eyes huge and dark, searching her own.

"I know," Maura said softly.

"What do you want?" Jane whispered.

"Just you," Maura sighed.

"What, not a pony?"

"I had a pony. Two, actually."

"Of course you did," Jane smiled. "But _I_ am better than a hundred ponies."

"You're better than anything," Maura said softly. She leaned up, kissed Jane sweetly.

Jane smiled against her lips. She wants this feeling more than anything; every time she wants it more.


	3. The Living Room

**The Living Room**

"What are you doing?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you _doing_?"

Maura didn't look up. "Thinking, Jane."

"Could you please think faster, because I've had this planned out for like ten minutes and I'd really just like to do it."

"Jane." Maura sighed and glanced upward, her brow still slightly furrowed with concentration. "This is an art, it requires more than knowledge of the principles, it requires careful consideration and attention to detail. There are countless possibilities and nearly infinite configurations to be taken into account."

"You don't have to go through all of them, Maura, you just have to pick one. Like-" she reached over, about to touch—

"How dare you!" Maura gasped, smacking Jane's hand away. "That's so rude!"

"Rude is the nicest thing I can be right now, come _on_, Maura!"

Maura sighed again, drifting her fingers slowly across the pieces arrayed on the board. She hesitated at the queen's pawn and Jane leaned forward in anticipation, ready to pounce, before Maura lifted her forefinger again.

"You're killing me," Jane groaned, slumping back in her seat. Maura smirked.

"The psychological game is often considered to be a superior offense to any gambit," she said archly, selecting a bishop and capturing one of Jane's pawns. "Button."

It was Jane's turn to sigh as she quickly yanked at her shirt, loosing the top button. "Fine. Whatever." She rolled her eyes at Maura who blinked innocently.

"Aren't you going to make your move?"

Jane narrowed her eyes and moved her fingers from piece to piece, not breaking eye contact with Maura. "See? You see how annoying this is?"

"If you were actually contemplating your next play I would respect your process," Maura said, "but since you're doing it specifically to annoy me then yes, I suppose it's annoying."

"God," Jane huffed. "You're impossible."

Maura only smiled her most dazzling smile, which made Jane nearly knock over a knight.

"You know what happens if you drop one, Jane," Maura reminded her.

"I know," she muttered, moving the knight to capture Maura's bishop. "Button."

"This dress doesn't have buttons."

"Maura, how are we supposed to play it right when you're not wearing anything with buttons?"

"I assume you've come up with a contingency, or you wouldn't have agreed to the game in the first place."

"All right, then," Jane eyed Maura, letting her gaze drift up and down her body. "Take your hair down, I guess."

Maura reached up with both hands and carefully drew a thin, elaborately carved ebony stick from her hair. The thick golden coil landed on her shoulder, curling slightly around her throat. Jane couldn't help but stare as Maura placed the stick in her mouth and ran her fingers through her hair, shaking it out. She gave her head a toss, and then slowly pulled the stick from between her lips.

It took Jane half a beat to realize her own mouth had fallen open slightly.

"Fair trade?" Maura murmured, twisting a lock of hair around her finger.

"Uh-" Jane swallowed hard. "Yeah, it was okay. I guess. I mean, for a bishop."

"Bishops aren't worth more than pawns, Jane."

"They should be," Jane said, trying to refocus on the game.

"You made the rules," Maura replied, her voice tinted with something slightly more than sportsmanship.

"Yeah I did, didn't I?"

"But the game has already started, and it would be unfair to change them now."

"You must have been so fun at parties," Jane said, still a little thrown by the way Maura's hair was spilling around her collarbones.

"If it's any consolation," Maura said, looking back down at the board to contemplate her next move, "I always made sure everyone spent exactly seven minutes in heaven."

"To the second, I'll bet."

"Don't you ever find it more fun to adapt to rules? To force yourself to get more creative when faced with constraints?"

"The only thing rules are good for," Jane said, "is breaking."

"I disagree."

"Yeah, well, you would."

Maura looked up at her, affronted. She scowled slightly and slid her queen across the board, capturing Jane's castle.

"That's . . . um . . . four, then," she said, after scrutinizing Jane's attire for a moment.

"What? Castles aren't worth more!"

"You think I can't break rules, so why not start with yours?"

Jane tried for a moment to think of a response, but the way Maura was staring at her, hazel eyes deceptively placid, the edge of her lower lip caught in her teeth, a slight smile playing at the corners of her mouth, made Jane unable to find a reason to challenge her.

"Just you wait, Doctor," Jane muttered as she undid the remaining buttons on her shirt, fully exposing the white tank top beneath.

"You're opting to leave it on, then?" Maura asked, with the faintest edge of disappointment.

"Uh, yeah, because otherwise we'll never finish. The game," she added hastily, when she saw Maura was about to speak again. Maura shrugged.

"It _is_ important to see things through to the end, I suppose," she said. "Your move."

"I know it's my move, jeez." Jane flexed her fingers over her half of the board, as though willing the correct piece to move of its own volition. When nothing happened, she picked up a pawn and set it down a space ahead.

"That was anticlimactic," Maura said, twisting her hair around her finger again.

"Don't—God, don't _do_ that," Jane finally cried.

"Do what?" Maura said, feigning surprise. "I'm not doing anything."

"You are too! You're . . . twirling your hair around."

"So? You do it all the time."

"Yeah, and _you_ accuse me of sexual frustration."

"I don't _accuse_ you, Jane," Maura sighed. "I merely point out that those behaviors can be _indicative-_"

"Oh, _indicative,_" Jane mimicked Maura's tone. "And what does it indicate for _you_, then?"

Maura looked up and away, biting the tip of her thumb as though deep in thought.

"For Christ's sake, Maura," Jane nearly shouted.

"You're awfully aggressive," Maura said. "I don't know if I should be playing games with you if this is how you're going to get."

"Well if you'd just play the damn game-"

"But I am," Maura replied. "This is how I do it." She grinned sweetly at Jane, fingers still teasing her lip.

"Psychological, huh," Jane muttered.

"Mm-hmm," Maura murmured. "When applied properly it can be exceptionally effective."

Jane settled back in her seat, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Uh-huh. Okay. I get it. I understand what it is you're doing here."

"It doesn't take a genius, Jane."

"Yeah, well, make your move, genius."

Maura let the hair slide from her finger, but didn't move her other hand from her mouth. To Jane's dismay, she slipped her index finger slightly past her lips, her cheeks hollowing as she gently sucked on it.

"Oh God, Maura," she groaned before she could stop herself. Maura glanced up at her, not moving anything but her eyes, which sparkled with mirth. As she quickly moved a pawn to capture the one Jane had just ineffectually placed she winked, making Jane start.

"Take it off, Jane," she murmured.

"Yeah," Jane whispered, "seems fair." She slipped her open shirt off, dropping it on the floor.

"Oh, it'll get wrinkled," Maura said, dismayed.

"Is that really what you're thinking right now? _Really_?"

"Concern for your possessions is not an overriding thought," Maura said, straightening up and taking a long moment to appreciate Jane's bare arms and close-fitting undershirt. "I assure you I'm capable of thinking about more than one thing at a time. Well, not exactly, neurologically speaking, but the firing of neurons happens so rapidly that-"

"Oh my God, I get it," Jane cried, abruptly capturing Maura's other bishop with her remaining castle. "Bishops are worth more now," she said, "because I make the rules."

"What do you want me to do, Jane?" Maura's voice was deliberately silky. Her psychological game was certainly on point; Jane had to admit that much.

"No buttons," Jane said. "Your hair is down. You're not wearing shoes. You're really not dressed for strip chess, Dr. Isles."

"Hmm," Maura said, feigning concern. "I suppose I was hoping to play better."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm kicking your ass."

"In case you hadn't noticed, I'm still fully clothed."

"And that's a problem for me," Jane said, finally allowing an edge of lust to creep into her voice. "Speaking as a high-school district chess champion, of course."

"I didn't know that!"

"Yeah, well, we got creamed at regionals."

Maura smiled. "Unzip me," she said, twisting in her seat to allow Jane better access.

"But then what will you take off when I actually start trying?"

Maura wrinkled her nose, amused. "Very funny, Jane," she said. "Just unzip me. I'm not taking it off."

"Yet," Jane said, grinning crookedly. She stood and crossed behind Maura, positioning herself so close she thought she could feel Maura's pulse quicken. She could see it quicken at her throat as she carefully gathered Maura's hair and pulled it away from the zipper, taking a moment to let her fingertips just barely skim the soft skin of Maura's neck. Jane smiled with satisfaction when Maura gasped faintly at the contact.

"You're not the only one with a good psychological game," Jane whispered as she slowly pulled down the zipper of Maura's dress, holding it with two fingers and allowing her thumb to graze each millimeter of skin as it was exposed. Maura shivered, a soft sound catching in her throat. Jane's grin widened as she reached the end of the zipper and, instead of sitting back down to allow Maura her move, slid her hands inside Maura's dress, around her ribs and down her waist, relishing the soft heat of her body.

"This doesn't seem quite fair," Maura breathed, "even with the new rules."

"Yeah, well," Jane replied, her voice low, "you know how I feel about rules."

"I'm beginning to fully under—oh!" she exclaimed as Jane pressed her lips to Maura's neck.

"Your move," Jane whispered, pulling away from her and returning to her seat. She tried to be as nonchalant as possible but touching Maura's skin, feeling how warm she was, breathing in the scent of her hair, made Jane a little dizzy.

Maura exhaled slowly, her eyes closed. After a moment she looked up at Jane, cocking one eyebrow and sliding her queen over to capture an errant pawn.

"Check," she whispered.

Jane smiled. "What do you think that's worth?"

"I don't make the rules, I just abide by them."

"Yeah, until you break them."

"Jane!" Maura frowned. "I only did it because you were teasing me."

"Peer pressure's a hell of a thing," Jane replied.

Maura said nothing, turning her eyes back to the board.

"Hey!"

"What?"

"Aren't you going to . . . you know, make a decision?"

Maura shrugged. "Your move."

"Now I'm worried."

Maura said nothing, but raised one eyebrow.

Jane narrowed her eyes again, and captured Maura's queen. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she took the piece, recognizing that the game was either drawing to a close with Maura's queen being out of play, or would drag on interminably as Maura was a strong enough player to make a fair showing without her most versatile piece. The psychological game indicated the former, since Maura was a strong enough player not to sacrifice her queen without expectations of eventual benefit. Jane swallowed hard again.

"Your move," she said, a little hoarsely.

"Aren't you going to make a decision?" Maura teased, though her voice was lush with promise.

"Your move," Jane said again. Maura smiled brilliantly. She put her finger on a knight, rocking it back and forth, not shifting her gaze from Jane's face.

"You know, chess has a fascinating history-" she began.

"I _do_ know," Jane interrupted. "I _also_ know our definitions of 'fascinating' are very different."

Maura's smile shifted from brilliance to mischief as she carefully, slowly, with aching deliberation, pushed her knight onto its side. "Oops," she breathed.

"That's a forfeit, Dr. Isles," Jane choked out, her pulse suddenly racing, her breathing suddenly shallow. "Rules are rules."

"Rules are rules," Maura murmured, rising from her chair and crossing to Jane. She stood next to her, holding out her hand.

"Uh-"

"My queen, please," Maura said politely.

Jane didn't know how to respond, so mutely handed Maura the piece.

"The queen is the most powerful player on the board," Maura murmured, turning it over in her hand. "She can move in any direction, as many spaces as she likes-"

"High-school chess champion, Maura," Jane reminded her.

"I'm making a point here, Jane, if you'd let me," Maura said, a touch exasperated.

"Yeah, of course, sorry."

"What I mean is the queen can do anything she wants. But sometimes-" Maura's gaze swept over Jane's body, her eyes heavy-lidded and turning dark. She shrugged her shoulders, allowing her dress to slip down her arms as she straddled Jane's lap, one hand reaching out to steady herself on Jane's shoulder, the other still toying with the queen.

"Sometimes," Jane mumbled.

"Sometimes, the queen has to sacrifice herself in order to achieve a greater victory." Maura reached out and gently touched the piece to Jane's lips, tracing it down her chin, her neck, playing at the edge of her undershirt. Jane shifted under her, the sensation of Maura sitting in her lap, Maura's hand sliding down her arm, back up her waist, over her breasts, Maura's hand finding a resting place at the back of her neck, was making her desperate to move, to touch her back.

"And what kind of victory did you have in mind?"

Maura didn't say anything; she pushed her body forward, pressing close to Jane, brought her mouth down to Jane's mouth, her tongue flicking past Jane's lips, making Jane wriggle and shift and moan slightly, Jane's hands automatically pressing against Maura's back, sliding under the fabric of her unzipped dress, wanting so badly to feel every inch of Maura's skin.

The queen clattered to the floor as Maura brought both her hands up to cup Jane's face, her kiss deepening, her hips pushing against Jane's, Jane tugging at the dress caught at Maura's elbows.

"Babe," Jane breathed, "I'm okay with accepting a forfeit, it doesn't offend my pride or anything, but if that's what's happening I really need to be able to get this dress off you right now."

"To the victor," Maura said.

"Uh-huh, yeah," Jane replied, pulling at Maura's dress from the hem, delighting in the way Maura arched into the motion, allowing Jane to slide the garment over her head. "It's gonna wrinkle," she said lightly.

"I'll have it cleaned," Maura mumbled absently, not wanting to break the kiss.

"Oh, so now it's okay to drop things on the floor?"

"Jane," Maura breathed against Jane's lips, "we are about to have sex. Focus."

Jane tried to signal her assent without moving her mouth from Maura's, running her hands over Maura's newly-bare skin, delighting in the pressure of Maura's body against hers.

She soon realized that while Maura straddling her, nearly naked, was a position she didn't mind being in at all, it was less than ideal for the things she wanted to do. Jane slipped her hands down, holding Maura tightly against herself as she stood up. Maura's legs locked around Jane's waist, still not breaking her kiss, Maura's tongue flirting with Jane's, her hair spilling around Jane's face, Maura's soft whimpers making goosebumps ripple along Jane's skin.

Jane turned around, Maura still clinging to her, still kissing her. Carefully she bent down and laid Maura on the couch, mouth pressed to Maura's as long as possible before she stood back up and took a moment to appreciate the sight of her, all amber-colored hair, smooth pale skin, the way her body was working slightly against the cushions as though if she were to stop moving even for a moment she'd burst into flames.

"God you're beautiful," Jane said, a little sheepishly.

Maura didn't reply, at least not with words. She reached up and hooked her finger around one of Jane's belt loops, pulling Jane to her knees. With her other hand she caught Jane's hand, directing it across her body, until Jane got the idea and allowed her fingers to explore Maura on their own.

"Jane," she whispered, her voice brimming with lust and desire and a hundred other things Jane could spend a long time figuring out.

"Yes, Maura," Jane whispered back.

"I take back what I said about not playing with you."

"You're sure I'm not too aggressive?"

Maura grinned wickedly, her eyes at half-mast.

"Sometimes a little aggression is necessary to achieve one's goals," she murmured, reaching down and deftly unbuttoning Jane's trousers with one hand, still shivering every time Jane's fingers found a new place to touch.

"In that case," Jane said, swinging her leg up onto the sofa and lowering her body onto Maura's, "let me tell you about some of my goals."

* * *

A/N I could've ended it with a stupid chess innuendo but I DIDN'T. Also writing the mechanics of sex is not very exciting for me, so I hope it's all right that we stopped a little short this time. Also I hope you like these silly little stories. Thanks for your feedback and favoriting and overall excellence!


	4. The Bathroom

**The Bathroom**

Maura was sitting at the kitchen table, reviewing documents for an upcoming trial, when her phone rang. There was nothing immediately unusual about this, but when she picked it up off the table she lifted an eyebrow.

_Incoming Call: Jane Rizzoli_

"Jane?" Maura called out, since Jane had been sitting in the chair opposite her just a few minutes before.

"Pick up the phone, Maura," she heard Jane shout from somewhere deep in the house.

Maura raised her other eyebrow and pressed the answer button. "Hello?" she said, her curiosity evident.

"Maura, there is a spider in here and it's bigger than Jo Friday."

"Where are you?"

"The bathroom."

"Which bathroom?" Maura couldn't contain her laughter.

"The one by the laundry room. Don't you dare laugh at me, Maura Isles. This thing is a friggin' monster."

"It's a spider, Jane. And if it's that large—which I doubt, since spiders that size are only found in dense subtropical jungles-"

"So it caught a red-eye from the Amazon, just get _in_ here."

Maura grinned as she got up from the table. "In all probability it's not poisonous."

"I don't care. It's got . . . oh God, Maura, it's got so many legs."

"All arachnids have eight legs, Jane, and while I agree that's a lot when considered from the perspective of a bipedal organism-"

"Maura. _It is going to eat me, I know it. _And then my death will be on your head, and nobody will ever come stay with you again."

Maura sighed as she arrived at the bathroom door. "Can I just open it, or should I put on a HAZMAT suit first?"

Jane hung up.

"Not funny, Maura," she said.

"Jane."

"Just open the damn door."

"Are you sure it's not going to jump on my face?"

"_I'm_ going to jump on your face if you don't get your ass in here."

"I don't see how you could jump on my face through a closed door."

"Oh my God. Oh my _God_, Maura, I swear I'm going to kill you. I'm a homicide detective, I know how to do it without getting caught."

Maura smiled widely and twisted the doorknob.

"You locked it, Jane."

Jane didn't reply, though Maura heard what she supposed was Jane slowly banging her head against the bathroom wall.

"Is it between you and the door?"

"Uh, yes."

"All right." Maura paused for a moment, to think and to try to contain her laughter. She didn't imagine Jane would be especially pleased to know she was nearly doubled over at the thought of homicide detective Jane Rizzoli, intrepid pursuer of violent murderers, cowering in terror at the presence of a spider.

"Maura," Jane said through the door, her voice deceptively even. "Please figure out how to get into this room so I'm not murdered by an arachnid."

"Spiders don't have the moral compass to differentiate between feeding and murder," she said, knowing Jane's reaction would be less than positive but saying it anyway.

"Oh my God," Jane said. "I'm never gonna do that thing to you again."

"What thing is that, Jane?"

"You know what thing I'm talking about."

"You mean going to yoga?"

There was a moment of silence.

"That too."

"Jane," Maura said, her voice light and reassuring. "You'll be fine. It's just a spider, it's more afraid of you than you are of it."

"That's total bullshit and you know it," Jane shouted. "That's just a lie parents teach their kids so they'll kill bugs for them."

"So have a kid and maybe they'll kill that spider for you."

"If this is your way of telling me you want to have children you are _doing it wrong_," Jane said. "Please, Maura, please figure out how to get in here."

There was a long silence as Maura scrutinized the door, assessing her options.

"Maura," Jane said finally, her voice as calm and loving as she could make it. "I promise I will be the nicest, kindest, recycling-est person in the whole world if you will break down this door right now. Because it's—oh God, Maura, it's coming closer to me."

"Just step on it, Jane!" Maura cried. "It's just a spider!"

"It has _fangs_. I can _see _them."

"Oh you can not," Maura sighed. "They're probably so small you'd need a magnifying glass at the very least."

Jane didn't reply.

"Jane?"

Silence.

"Jane, are you all right?" Maura felt a twinge of concern, despite knowing that whatever spider was sharing the bathroom with Jane was most likely harmless.

"I don't know where it went," Jane finally said.

"So come unlock the door."

"What if it's hiding under the doorknob?"

"Did you see it crawl to the doorknob?"

Silence.

"Jane?"

"No."

Maura shook her head in affectionate exasperation.

"Are you shaking your head out there?"

Maura said nothing.

"You are, aren't you. This is serious, Maura."

"That's debatable."

"What's debatable is whether or not you'll ever get to see me naked again."

Maura considered this.

"All right," she said finally. There's some hairspray in the medicine cabinet. Get it and spray the spider when you see it again."

"But what if it's in the medicine cabinet?"

"Then it won't be hard to spray it."

"Oh my God."

"Do I need to call Frost?"

"Don't you dare. Don't you _dare_. If you ever tell anyone about this, I'll . . . I'll . . ."

"You'll kill me?"

"Yeah. That. If this spider doesn't kill me first."

"Jane." Maura sighed. "Clearly this is not a sustainable situation. You just need to take a deep breath, clear your mind, focus your energy-"

"I'm not trying to ascend to a higher plane of consciousness here, Maura, I'm trying to get out of the bathroom."

"Then just close your eyes and unlock the door. You can do it!"

"What do I get if I do?"

"You mean aside from the satisfaction that comes from conquering a fear?"

"Aside from that."

"Well," Maura said, "you'll be out of the bathroom."

Jane didn't respond.

"And I'll give you a present."

There was a brief pause.

"I like presents," Jane said.

"I know."

"Will it be a good present?"

"You'll have to find out."

Maura listened carefully, her ear pressed to the door, as Jane shuffled around in the bathroom. Finally there was a soft _click_ and the door opened. Maura was almost knocked down as Jane bolted out, not stopping until she was halfway across the living room.

"Congratulations!" Maura said cheerfully. "You did it!"

"Kill it, Maura," Jane said seriously. "I will never be able to sleep here again if I know it's still creeping around."

"There are probably hundreds, if not thousands, of spiders and insects in this house right now, Jane," she replied. Jane squeezed her eyes closed and put her fingers in her ears, shaking her head.

"I am not listening to you right now," she muttered. "You are not helping."

"Oh, poor thing," Maura clucked, crossing to her and kissing her tenderly. "It's just a spider."

"Go in there and look at it and tell me it's just a spider," Jane said.

Maura grinned, kissed Jane again, and went into the bathroom.

"Oh my God, Jane," she said.

"I told you! I _told_ you!"

"I don't think I've ever seen a specimen this large, at least not in a private home," Maura called. "Can you bring me a large glass bowl? And a piece of paper."

"You're going to _free _it? You're going to unleash that monster on an unsuspecting world? You're a terrible person."

"You want me to just kill it? It didn't do anything to you! And it's probably very effective at controlling the local insect population."

"But it's so gross!"

"It probably thinks you're a little gross too," Maura said.

"It thinks I'm _lunch_, Maura. Please just kill it."

Maura sighed loudly enough to make sure Jane heard her. "All right. But if this affects my position on the karma wheel-"

"I will buy you a thousand karma wheels, _please_."

"Why are you so afraid of spiders? Have you always been this way?" Jane mumbled something Maura couldn't quite hear. "What was that?"

"I was at summer camp and I woke up in the middle of the night and there was a spider _on my face_," she shouted. "On my _face_, Maura."

"Negative experiences during one's formative years can certainly instill lasting aversions," Maura said, slipping her shoe off. "I think it's charming that you're still afraid of spiders. It humanizes you a little more."

"Once it's dead I'll really be able to resent you for patronizing me," Jane called, "but it's not dead yet, is it."

Maura shook her head, and brought the shoe down with a sharp _thwack_.

"It's dead, Jane," she called. "I'm bringing it out now."

"Ew! No! Just flush it!"

"Don't you want to see it up close knowing there's absolutely nothing it can do to you?"

"I'm not the one who likes dead bodies, Dr. Death," Jane yelled. "Just flush it and then give me my present for being brave."

Maura scraped the remnants of the spider from her shoe with a piece of tissue and dropped the bundle into the toilet. She flushed it down, and could hear Jane's sigh of relief from the other room.

"I hope you can appreciate that I just got spider guts all over my custom Ferregamo wedges," she said, emerging from the bathroom.

"I can," Jane said in the way that made Maura certain she couldn't at all, but the look of total relief on her face was enough to make her forget all about it. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Jane," she said. "Next time, just step on it, okay?"

"No promises," Jane replied. "But I'll try. I'll _try _to try."

"I suppose that will have to be good enough," Maura sighed.

"Where's my present?"

"You mean my killing what was—admittedly—a very large spider for you wasn't gift enough?" Maura smiled.

"Uh, when I get the promise of a present from you, I know it's gonna be something I'll want to collect on," Jane said.

Maura blushed slightly. "Is there anything in particular you'd like to have?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something," Jane said, a slow smile spreading across her face. "I _was_ pretty brave just then."

"Mm-hmm," Maura murmured with just a hint of skepticism. "Though I suppose positive reinforcement can work wonders for self-esteem."

"My self-esteem is already pretty high," Jane said. "Of course, that doesn't mean it can't be higher."

"So modest," Maura raised an eyebrow.

"I got you, didn't I? That's not a light anyone ought to hide under a bushel."

"Jane, now you're making _me_ feel immodest."

"That's all I've ever wanted," Jane said. "Now, about my present . . ."

* * *

A/N You guys, sometimes it's important to talk fucking and sometimes it's important to be adorable. Today it's important to be adorable, tonight might be a different story (it'll be a different story)


	5. Jane's Apartment

**Jane's Apartment**

"Jane? What is it?"

"Did I wake you up?"

"No, 3:30 a.m. is generally my most productive time."

"Are you joking?" Jane frowned. Usually she could figure out when Maura was trying to be sarcastic, but the lack of body language was making it difficult.

"Yes, Jane," Maura sighed. "What's going on? Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," Jane said quickly. "I couldn't sleep."

"So . . . _I _shouldn't sleep either. Is that what you were thinking?"

"No! I'm sorry. I'll see you tomorrow." Jane moved to end the call, but stopped when she heard Maura's tinny protestations on the other end.

"It's fine, Jane. I was going to get up soon anyway."

"You're so weird."

"I just like to take advantage of as much daylight as I can."

"Maura, it won't even _be_ daylight for—never mind," Jane sighed.

"Why do you think you can't sleep?"

Jane blushed slightly, her first thought one she was too embarrassed to share.

"I can hear you not answering, Jane," Maura said, yawning.

"I dunno," Jane mumbled. "Work, I guess. Or, Ma is really stressing me out, she keeps 'accidentally' running into me in the hallway, trying to get me to go out with Lonny Rondazzo."

"Who's Lonny Rondazzo?"

"I have no idea."

"Well, you could always just . . . tell her."

There was a pause as Jane rolled her eyes and sighed as she flopped back against her pillows. "She already knows, Maura, she's just doing this to drive me crazy."

"She already knows?" Maura's voice was a mixture of uncertainty and pleasure.

"I mean, yeah, come on, she knew when Tommy tried to fill out his PSAT with a #3 pencil in high school. I swear she called the principal ten minutes before the test, nobody ever figured out how she did it. So she keeps trying to set me up with these loser guys to, I don't know, make me miserable about not picking out china patterns."

"I wouldn't trust you anywhere near china patterns," Maura said. "It'd be like . . . like . . ."

"A bull . . ." Jane prompted.

"A bull? You're not a Taurus."

"In a china shop, Maura! God, you're infuriating."

"Um, Jane, unless I'm mistaken _I'm_ not the one who calls people at three-thirty in the morning."

Jane sighed again. A smile plucked at the corners of her mouth when she could hear the rustle of Maura's sheets, imagining what Maura looked like just then, her face soft with sleep, hair loose and tangling.

There was a long pause. "_Would _you tell her?" Maura asked softly.

Jane chewed at her fingernail. "Yeah," she said finally, "I guess. I mean, it's not that I don't _want_ to tell her, it's just that I don't _want_ to tell her . . . _anything,_ really. Because she'll find some way to drive me to a murder-suicide. You know how she is."

"Could _I_ tell her?"

Jane chewed at her fingernail some more. "I mean yeah, if you want to."

"If she already knows . . ."

"I just don't want her telling everyone at the precinct, you know?"

"I see how it could make both of our professional lives more difficult, yes," Maura said matter-of-factly, assuaging Jane's vague discomfort in the rational way Jane professed to hate. "But I trust Angela, and I think she trusts me not to ask her to keep information as sensitive as this to herself unless it's very important."

"Yeah," Jane said absently.

"Is this upsetting to you?" Maura's voice was laced with concern, and Jane could hear her shifting position.

"No. No, it's not. Just . . . not the direction I was expecting this conversation to go."

"I'd be lying if I said it was what I expected."

"Then I'd have to come over and revive you, huh," Jane said with a soft chuckle.

"You could come over and try it anyway," Maura replied. Her voice was still a little rough from being awakened so abruptly, and Jane shivered involuntarily.

"That would be medically unnecessary, Doctor," she murmured.

"But not medically harmful, and perhaps your demonstration of concern could have additional long-term health benefits."

"Such as?" Jane grinned, stretching out in the bed. She twisted her foot slightly in the sheet, a habit she'd had since she was a child and wanted more than anything to be a trapeze artist.

"Ummm . . ." Maura trailed off. Jane shivered again as she listened to Maura adjust herself in her bed. "It's been shown that performing selfless acts increases positive feelings and reinforces neural connections that lead to performing more selfless acts, resulting in more positive feelings."

"Okay."

"And when you feel good about yourself, your immune system is boosted. Though there are other ways to do that, if you're looking for something a little more short-term."

"Tell me all about it," Jane said. "Or you could come here and show me."

"Then I'd have to get out of bed," Maura yawned again.

"I thought you were getting up in a little while anyway."

"I just said that to be polite, Jane."

"So . . . you lied." She grinned as Maura made soft noises of protests.

"It wasn't a lie! The definition of "a little while" is quite fluid."

"Well, you could come over and not get up for a little while with me," Jane said a little self-consciously, a blush creeping into her cheeks. She was always fighting impulses when talking to Maura—the desire to be with her, the fear of sounding too aggressive, the plain embarrassment of saying exactly what it was she wanted.

"Or you could come here," Maura said. "I have an espresso machine."

"But then I'd have to put on pants," Jane groaned.

She could hear Maura's grin on the other end of the line. "Tell me what else you're not wearing, Detective," Maura purred. Maura, Jane had noticed, seemed to lack a key bashfulness gene. Jane sometimes admired how direct Maura could be, and sometimes it made her want to cringe into another dimension. Tonight, however, the drowsy playfulness in her voice was making Jane quiver.

"I'm not wearing . . ." Jane paused, uncertain of exactly what she should say. "Shoes. I'm not wearing shoes."

"Congratulations, Jane," Maura laughed. "Turning over a new leaf."

"Oh yeah, well, you're probably wearing some . . . fancy . . . thing," she finished lamely.

"Very fancy," Maura replied. "It has pants and everything."

"Well that's a bummer," Jane mumbled.

"All right—hold on-" Jane tried to speak but heard the muffled rustling of Maura setting her phone down, then a moment of indeterminate shuffling. "Okay," Maura said as brightly as possible considering the hour. "No need to be 'bummed up.'"

"It's bummed _out,_" Jane said, before she realized what had just happened. "Did you just—uh-" Jane's mouth went dry.

"I thought it might be most convenient if I took the whole thing off," Maura interrupted. "To save a little time."

"Very convenient," Jane mumbled.

"Are you sure you don't want to come over?"

"I . . . uh . . . no?"

"Even though I know what sacrifice you'd be making by putting on pants? Even if I promise I'll take them off you right away?"

"Uh," Jane swallowed hard. "Yes I do want to come over."

"All right."

"But hold on," Jane said quickly before Maura could hang up.

"What is it, Jane?" Maura said, a hint of impatience in her voice. "I'm getting a little chilly like this."

Jane closed her eyes, smiling as she imagined Maura lying naked in her bed, the something fancy she'd just slipped out of puddled on the floor next to her.

"Jane?"

"I'm just—I'm just imagining you, right now," Jane admitted, feeling a little silly. "It's nice."

"Well that's sweet, Jane," Maura said genuinely, and Jane could visualize the way Maura's eyes widened and her smile flashed every time someone paid her a compliment. "I'm imagining you too," she continued, her voice slipping down into her lower register. "It's not very nice, though. Well, it's nice, it's just not _nice-_nice."

"Oh yeah?" Jane barely managed to keep her voice from cracking. "How so?"

"Well," Maura said, taking a breath that made Jane temporarily unable to breathe. "I know you're not wearing pants _or_ shoes, and I suspect you're wearing a tank top you got in a package of three at Target-"

"Actually I got this one by itself, at Macy's." Jane cut in. "From the_ women's section_, I'll have you know."

"I'll make sure to put another gold star on your chart."

"I think I like you in the middle of the night," Jane said before realizing what that sounded like.

"I like you any time, Detective Rizzoli," Maura replied, and Jane could see exactly the way her mouth was shaping the words, which made her feel a little lightheaded even though she was lying down.

"Jane?"

"Uh, yeah," Jane muttered, twisting around slightly in her bed.

"I don't hear you getting out of bed."

"Yeah," Jane admitted. "I like talking to you. Listening to you."

"Mm-hmm," Maura murmured in a way Jane couldn't exactly parse. The little exhalation sent tiny ripples through her body, raising goosebumps on her arms. "I see. What would you like me to talk about?"

"Um . . ."

"Perhaps tomorrow's weather forecast?"

"Maura!"

"Perhaps you'd like me to talk about what we'll do when you get here? Because I'm fairly confident I'll be seeing you before the sun comes up."

Jane flushed what she was sure was bright crimson. "And what makes you so confident?" she mumbled.

"Well," Maura's voice was flirtatious, throaty, all traces of sleepiness gone. "I'm not wearing anything, for a start."

"That's a pretty good start."

"And I'm here, alone in my bed, which as you know is quite large, which can make being alone in it feel a little . . ."

"A little . . ."

"Lonely, I guess. So you can understand why I'd be pleased you were thinking of coming over to keep me company."

"Totally understandable," Jane whispered.

"Since you need to be wearing pants to drive, generally—legally of course, not due to the mechanics of operating a motor vehicle-"

"Maura."

"I'll of course need to take those pants off as soon as you arrive."

"Of course."

"I'll probably kiss you while I'm doing it, which might make things a little difficult to manage, but I can be very graceful while completing challenging tasks."

"I know." Jane's breath was getting a little shallow, her heart rate a little faster. "You're very good with your hands, Dr. Isles."

"Then I'll take off your shirt, being careful to conduct a thorough examination of your body in order to determine your most sensitive areas."

"I think you've got a pretty good idea of my sensitive areas," Jane stammered.

"I like to keep my skill set fresh."

"Uh-huh, good point."

Jane held her breath to hear Maura's, which, the sudden heat flushing through her body told her, was slightly more labored with every passing moment. She imagined Maura in bed, finely-woven sheets draped demurely over her finely-formed body, the way Maura would be wriggling slightly as she described to Jane in exacting detail the methods she would employ in order to make the trip across town worthwhile.

"Jane," she gasped after a particularly vivid description involving the sensation of Jane's legs moving across Maura's back, "while I am quite enjoying this conversation, I feel like we've established that should one of us be out of town there will be ways to pass the time."

Jane was too busy looking for her keys to offer anything but a weak "uh-huh."

"I hope I've convinced you to come over here, I mean," Maura said, her voice liquid.

"I just need to find my damn keys," Jane replied, trying to keep the mounting panic out of her voice.

"On the counter, next to the fruit basket. And I hope you've thrown away those old bananas."

Jane punched the air in silent victory when she spotted the keyring, half-hidden behind a wilted, black-splotched banana. "Yes," she said, dumping the contents of the basket into the garbage and not even trying to pretend to be exasperated. "I did. And how did you know my keys were there? Did you put cameras in my house?"

"Oh, _that's_ an idea," Maura purred. Jane steadied herself on the kitchen counter, her knees turning to jelly. "You always put your keys there when you're tired, and those bananas were starting to turn a week ago. Now get in your car and come over here, I wasn't joking when I said I was getting a little chilly."

"So you need me to warm you up, then."

"That seems most logical, don't you think? Oh, Jane?"

"Yeah?" Jane threw on her jacket and slipped out the door as quietly as possible so not to wake her neighbors, who she figured had a hard enough time living near her as it was.

"You never told me why it was you thought you couldn't sleep."

"Sure I did."

Jane could hear Maura's eyebrow raise.

"I wanted you next to me," she said finally, more embarrassed than she'd been all night, even when Maura had described the myriad places she was going to put her tongue.

Maura sighed happily, and Jane couldn't help the grin from spreading across her face. "I thought so," Maura said. "But you know how I hate to guess."

"I'm hanging up now." Jane fumbled the car key into the lock, and pulled the door open. "Illegal to drive and talk, you know."

"I'll be waiting," Maura whispered, her voice coated with honey. "I hope you hit all the green lights."

"I've got a BPD badge," Jane scoffed, "I'll be there in ten."

* * *

So it's not my favorite so far, but it's something. Where should the next one be? I'm so burned out on real life I can't even think of what rooms houses usually have in them?


	6. The Garage

**The Garage**

"Goodness, Jane," Maura cried, though her voice was muffled by the ton and a half of steel she was hidden beneath. "How long has it been since you've had your oil changed?"

"I dunno," Jane shrugged. "Like . . . six weeks?"

"Six _months_ is more like it," Maura sighed. "There's so much buildup on these valves, I don't know if I can really do this right."

Jane snorted.

"This is serious, Jane! Do you realize what all these fluid deposits are doing to your gas mileage?"

"Making it . . . worse? I don't know, Maura, I just drive it."

"Well," Maura said, still managing to sound haughty even while wrenching at mount bolts, "you should be a little more attentive."

"Yes ma'am," Jane said, offering a mock salute that made her feel slightly ridiculous when she realized Maura couldn't see it.

"I mean _really_, Jane," Maura huffed, a socket wrench clanging to the concrete. "I don't even know if I'll be able to get the filter out."

"I'll just take it to the shop," Jane said. "It's not a big deal. I'm not really sure why you had to do it yourself."

Maura slid out from under the car. "I had to do it myself because it's important to do favors for friends when it is within one's technical and temporal ability to do so."

"You could just say 'because I wanted to,' you know," Jane replied.

"Because I wanted to, then," Maura said. "Please hand me that oil pan."

"Uhhh . . ." Jane glanced around the garage. "This thing?" she asked, holding up an oblong receptacle.

"That's it," Maura said, sliding back under the car.

"I don't understand how your garage is so clean. You could do an autopsy in here."

"Just because it's traditionally held to be storage for messy items doesn't mean it has to be a messy space, Jane," Maura chided. "Your closet, for instance."

"My closet isn't messy!"

Maura let out a snort of her own.

"Okay so it's a _little_ messy," Jane admitted.

"Your closet makes nuclear fusion look like lab-controlled culture reproduction."

"I don't know what that means, so I refuse to be insulted by it."

Maura slid out again.

"It's messy, Jane." She disappeared back under the car.

"If I'd known this would involve so much abuse I would've just taken the stupid thing to Giovanni," Jane teased.

"I imagine his price would've been the same as mine," Maura said, her breath catching as she yanked at a particularly stubborn nut.

"But you're doing it for free."

"It's not costing you any money, that's true," Maura replied. "Though I don't think you'd disagree when I say it's fair to expect _some_ compensation."

"I'm not going to have to run another marathon, am I?" Jane groaned.

Maura slid out again.

"That was your first thought on how you could repay me for changing your oil? Though I grant that your impulse toward physical exertion was right on the money, so to speak."

Jane didn't say anything, but she swallowed hard.

"Oh no," Maura said.

"Oh no what? What happened? Is it bad? Will it be expensive?"

"I got oil on my Elie Tahari."

Jane rolled her eyes.

"You're changing my oil and you didn't even change your clothes first, I'm not gonna be held responsible for that."

Maura slid back out from under the car and sat up, frowning at Jane.

"You should probably take it off, at least."

"Well, it's ruined now."

"Maura," Jane sighed. "_That_ was your first thought when I suggested you start taking your clothes off?"

Maura paused. "I see," she said, and grinned. "Of course you're right." She pulled off her gloves and slowly unbuttoned the cardigan, looking Jane in the eye the whole time. She slipped the sweater from her shoulders, holding it out to Jane.

"What should I do with this? I'm afraid to mess up your garage," Jane said.

"You can hang it on the hook by the door," Maura replied airily, ignoring the sarcasm.

"You know," Jane said over her shoulder, "I'm starting to feel a little threatened by your automotive skills."

"Why? Because you're supposed to be the butch one?"

"I'm not butch!" Jane cried. "I'm . . ."

"Sporty?"

Jane couldn't think of anything to say, so she folded her arms.

"Pouting doesn't make you less butch," Maura reminded her, sliding back under the car.

"Yeah, well, changing my oil doesn't mean you get to . . . I dunno, start wearing pants."

"I wear pants sometimes."

"Yeah, but you wear girl pants."

"What," Maura said, rolling back out, "are 'girl pants'?"

"You know. They're like . . . I dunno, fancy."

"You love my fancy pants, Jane." Maura winked, and Jane felt a flush start to creep up her neck.

"I like 'em better on the floor," she mumbled.

Maura smiled widely. "Me too," she said, her voice suddenly low and sultry. The flush creeping up Jane's neck took full possession of her face.

"Uh," she said.

"You know," Maura went on, "I really like this dress. It's one of my favorites."

"Yeah," Jane stammered, "it's—it's nice."

"I'd hate for anything to happen to it while I'm down here."

"That would be—uh, that would be terrible."

"And it seems like a waste of time for me to get up, go into the house, go all the way to my bedroom and find something else I'm willing to destroy for the sake of your horribly inefficient, environmentally reprehensible car."

"Not all of us want to drive around in ugly hippiemobiles," Jane said, scowling. "Just because your carbon footprint or whatever-"

"Let's not argue about emissions," Maura suggested. "Let's just agree that I'm more environmentally sensitive than you are and leave it at that."

"Wait a minute, I'm not agreeing to that."

"Then maybe I'm not agreeing to taking my clothes off and fixing your car naked."

"Whoa," Jane said. "Whoa. Okay. You're clearly the greenest, and I'm sorry if I ever said you weren't."

"All right, then," Maura said, a satisfied look on her face. "Help me up."

Jane crossed to her, taking her elbow and helping her stand.

"Okay, now unzip me," Maura said, a little impatiently.

"You know, I think that's my favorite thing that you say to me," Jane murmured, slowly pulling down the zipper of Maura's dress. She grinned as Maura shivered at her touch, grinned as she carefully lifted the dress over Maura's head, grinned at the sight of her, smooth and perfect, soft and warm, contrasted against the sharp edges and cold surfaces of the garage.

"All right," Maura said brightly, once Jane had put the dress on the hook by the door, taking care to avoid the spot of oil on the cardigan already hanging there. "This will be much better, don't you think? Easier to get any fluids off."

"Uh-huh," Jane choked, her mouth dry. "What about your shoes?"

"Oh Jane," Maura sighed. "They won't be under the car, there's no reason to worry about them."

"Okay," Jane said, trying to act like it was no big deal that Maura was laying down on a mechanic's creeper wearing only her usual embellished underwear and a pair of sky-high patent-leather heels.

_Nothing weird about that at all, Rizzoli. She's just perfect, is all._

"Can you hand me the socket wrench? I can't seem to find it."

Jane scanned the garage and saw the tool laying just out of Maura's reach next to the rear passenger tire. As she knelt down she glimpsed Maura, biting her lip as she poked at something in the sooty underbelly of the vehicle, the lean muscles in her arms flexing as she strained to work whatever it was loose, the glowing ivory of her skin an impossibly sensual contrast against the dirty pipes of the car's undercarriage.

The wrench slipped from Jane's hand with a loud clang.

"Careful," Maura murmured. "Or I won't let you give me a hand when I'm down here any more."

"Oh my God, Maura," Jane whispered, half-reflexively. "Do you hear the things that come out of your mouth?"

"Most of the time, yes," Maura replied, blowing at a strand of hair stuck to the faint sweat beginning to show on her face. "Will you get that for me?"

"Okay," Jane breathed, laying on her belly and scooting under the car, not caring about the potential damage to her wardrobe. She reached out and carefully plucked at the offending strand of hair, tucking it behind Maura's ear. "How's that?"

"Perfect," Maura purred. "Thank you." She glanced at Jane, smiling brilliantly. "I'm almost done."

"Shame," Jane said before she could stop herself.

"You want to not be able to drive to work tomorrow?"

"I could think of worse things."

"Such as?"

"Such as you being done changing my oil and putting your clothes back on."

Maura sighed, shaking her head. "Oh Jane, someday we'll need to sit down and talk about why you always assume I'm going to put my clothes back on."

"We will?"

"No," Maura said, setting the socket wrench down. "We won't. What I mean is stop assuming I'm going to put my clothes back on, especially before you've properly paid me back for my time and expertise."

"Uh-huh," Jane replied, not moving from her position under the car, though the concrete was cold and she was pressed against the front tire. "And how would you suggest I properly pay you back?"

"With your own time and expertise, of course," Maura said, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world. Which, Jane supposed, it was.

"What expertise would that be?"

"I'm not the only one who's good with tools, Jane."

Jane gulped and couldn't help the vague feeling of wanting to disappear into the floor out of sudden embarrassment, but she pressed on.

"So what you're saying is . . ."

"What I'm saying, darling Jane," Maura said, sliding out from under the car again, "is I did this because I enjoy the challenge, but also because I expect you to fuck me. Right now, preferably, or as close to right now as seems reasonable."

Jane didn't move. She was sure if she moved even an inch she'd lose all control of her body and melt into a puddle on the floor.

"Jane?"

"Maura," Jane whispered. "You are both the best and worst thing that ever happened to me."

"Oh no," Maura said, her voice laced with legitimate concern. "How am I the worst?"

"Because sometimes you make it impossible for me to . . . like . . . exist as a normal person."

"What?"

"Maura," Jane said with as much patience as she could muster, "you are the sexiest woman who has ever lived. I get that you might not know that, but you gotta understand there are things you say to me that make me short-circuit as a human being, and especially when you say them while dressed only in your underwear and high heels, fixing a car—I mean, Jesus, Maura, if you don't understand why this makes me crazy, well, there's no hope for either of us, I guess."

"I don't want to make you crazy, Jane," Maura said, still laying on her back, a tiny trickle of oil pooling at her neck.

"I don't know if I believe you," Jane said, finally able to scoot out from under the car.

"I don't want to make you crazy," Maura said again. "I only want to make you feel happy and loved."

"Well, you're doing just fine at that." Jane pushed herself to her feet and crossed to Maura, kneeling down and swiping at the oil with her thumb. "But you also make me crazy."

"Well," Maura said, a touch uncertainly, "if it's not the bad kind of crazy-"

"It is the absolute _worst_ kind of crazy," Jane said seriously, before sighing at Maura's worried expression. "I mean that in the best way."

"All right," Maura replied, "if that's a good thing, I suppose it's all right."

"It is more than all right," Jane said, leaning down, kissing Maura softly, letting her hand run up and down her exposed flesh, smiling against Maura's lips as the other woman shivered under her touch. "It's pretty much the only thing I want."

"Good," Maura murmured, shifting her body so that she was angled toward Jane.

"You know what else is good?"

"Hmm?"

"How clean your garage is."

"I thought you found the cleanliness of my garage worthy only of mockery," Maura said, pulling away from Jane briefly.

"Only 'cause I'm jealous that you _have_ a garage. And anyway, it's a good thing it's so clean, because I know how much you hate to get dirty, and I was just thinking what a waste of time it would be to get up, go into the house, go all the way into your bedroom just to-" she slipped her hand down the plane of Maura's stomach, relishing Maura's soft shiver as she hooked her thumb under the band of Maura's panties, sliding them down her hips.

"Indeed," Maura murmured, then sighed and wriggled as Jane's fingers sought out her most sensitive places.

"Thank you for changing my oil," Jane whispered. "You're the best."

"I do what I—oh—what I can," Maura breathed.

"And you do it so well."

Maura smiled.

The wheels of the dolly squeaked slightly. Jane hit her head on the bumper more than once.

"You know what I don't understand," Jane said as they lay tangled on the garage floor where they'd tumbled from the dolly.

"Hmm?"

"How such a tiny bit of oil can get all over everything." She brushed her fingers over the spot on Maura's neck where the drop of oil had started, though it had spread considerably.

"You know how I keep things so clean, Jane?" Maura asked, pressing her lips to Jane's throat.

"How's that?"

"I always clean up as soon as I make a mess."

"That's a wise habit," Jane said, tangling her hand in Maura's hair.

"Like now, for instance, how we've both gotten motor oil everywhere. Not even taking into consideration how toxic it is."

"I suppose," Jane murmured, pulling her hand free, "we ought to take care of it, then."

"I suppose you're right," Maura smiled, her eyes closed. "And it would be terribly inefficient to take two showers instead of one. And I _am_ the authority on environmental issues, we already established that."

"Mm-hmm." Jane grinned. "Please, Dr. Isles, give me a lesson in conservation. If I can't save the planet with my car . . ."

* * *

A/N: I just wanted to make sure you all know how much I love you for reviewing these silly stories. Because it is _a lot_.


	7. The Backyard

**The Backyard**

"I _have_ been to a barbecue before, you know," Maura sighed.

Jane didn't reply. She was staring at two bags of charcoal, deep in thought.

"Jane? I don't think this is necessary at all."

"Mesquite or classic?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I mean, mesquite's pretty good, but classic is . . . well . . . yeah, I'm going with classic." She hefted the bag up and dumped half of it in the waiting grill.

"I have a gas grill, you know. It's got four burners, 54,000 BTUs—"

"Yeah, yeah," Jane said dismissively. "But _this _one I get to set on _actual_ fire."

"It's not nearly as efficient a cooking method, especially for dense meats," Maura replied.

"Maura," Jane set down the charcoal. "Those things you say? That's exactly why we're doing this. I know you've been to barbecues before, but they don't count when they're catered. Even though that barbecue place down on Grantham has really good sauce. It's not the same thing."

Maura frowned.

"Look, I mean, it's not about the food. Okay, well, that's not true, it's _sort_ of about the food, but mostly it's about setting things on fire. And drinking beer."

"I don't know if those two things should be done at the same time, it seems awfully uns—"

"Don't say it, Maura. Don't you dare say it."

Maura folded her arms and stared off in a different direction.

"Do you think my roses are getting black spot?"

"What?"

"The Amber Flush looks a little mottled. I'm going to get my garden scissors." She turned to go back into the house.

"Maura." Jane's voice was low, steady, deliberately calm. "We are having barbecue practice right now. Tending to your rosebushes is just about the farthest you can get from that while still being outside."

"But—"

Jane picked up the bottle of lighter fluid. "No. You watch this."

Maura's brow furrowed. She glanced at her rosebushes again, then back to Jane. "At least let me do it, then."

Jane cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

"If I'm not allowed to maintain the health and beauty of my personal ecosystem the least you can do is let me set something on fire."

"Kinky," Jane grinned.

Maura raised an eyebrow of her own, a crooked smile on her face. Jane had to put a hand on the meat table to steady herself.

"Okay, what do I do?"

"Well, you—" Jane pulled Maura close, pressing her body to Maura's back. Her hair smelled like wildflowers. Jane smiled. "Okay, you take the lighter fluid, and you squeeze a little bit on the coals."

"Okay." Maura took the bottle and gave it a hard squeeze, lighter fluid spraying everywhere.

"Jeez, Maura, you want to burn your fancy house down?"

"I'm sorry! I wasn't expecting it to come out so fast."

Jane snorted.

"I just heard how that sounded."

"Oh no," Jane said, breaking into laughter. "Don't even try to take it back."

"I wasn't going to. I stand by my word."

"Uh-huh. Well, we're going to light it anyway, we'll just need to move back a little bit."

Maura pushed against Jane, wriggling slightly. "Like this?"

Jane gulped.

"Yeah, like that."

"Good," Maura murmured. "Now. Let's set it on fire."

"How did I get so lucky," Jane breathed into Maura's hair, managing to just barely brush her lips over Maura's ear.

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Maura said. "You're intelligent, attractive, caring, and I'm told you're also funny."

"Maura!" Jane gasped. "Was that a joke?"

Maura thought for a moment. "Probably."

Jane grasped Maura's waist and pressed her close, kissing her cheek. "Luck had everything to do with it."

She felt Maura shiver under her hands and smiled. "Do you have the matches?"

Maura gasped, but the sound she made was more aghast than amused. "We're doing this with _matches?_"

"Well, yeah, what were you planning on doing? Banging some rocks together until you got a spark?"

Maura turned around, her face serious. "First of all, Jane, it's a little more complicated than 'banging some rocks together.' As a former Sprout Trooper I would've thought you'd known that. And second—"

Jane abruptly leaned in and stopped Maura with a kiss. She felt Maura swoon slightly, a faint sigh pushing against Jane's lips. Jane's hand slid around Maura's waist until she was holding the small of her back, pulling Maura's hips tight against her own. Maura made a soft noise that caused the hairs on the back of Jane's neck to stand up and she worked her fingers gently under the hem of Maura's shirt, grinning when her fingertips brushed against Maura's skin. Maura increased the pressure of her body against Jane's, her own hand weaving through Jane's hair. They stood there tangled together for a long moment, until—

"—second, it's incredibly dangerous to put an open flame into such a volatile and comparatively concentrated atmosphere," Maura said, breaking the kiss just as abruptly as Jane had initiated it.

"Well, we've been doing it for thousands of years and the human race somehow keeps going," Jane said, rolling her eyes. "It's easy. And you won't set yourself on fire. I promise."

"What if I set _you_ on fire?"

Jane stopped and considered this. "I'll watch from inside," she said, turning to go.

"Jane!" Maura cried. "This was your idea. And besides, I'm much safer in general than you are, so even though I've never done it before the odds favor my managing to do it without incident far more than you."

"How have you already given this so much thought?"

"Dr. Smartypants, remember?"

"Uh-huh. Well, firebug, let's give it a shot." Jane waited until Maura turned to get the matches off the table and quickly took a surreptitious step backwards. Just in case.

"At least they're fireplace matches," Maura sighed, sliding the long matchstick out of its box. Jane smiled inwardly at the sight of Maura's fingers delicately grasping the stick, the way she carefully positioned it against the strike strip. "Okay," she said.

"Maura, you're just lighting a grill. It's not the Olympic torch."

"You do it, then."

"No, no," Jane said quickly, in the conciliatory tone reserved for the moments she could sense she was about to lose out on something she wanted very much. "You do it. I'll be good."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Maura muttered, striking the match. She took a deep breath, her face narrowing into a tiny pout of concentration. She carefully extended the match, letting out a brief squeal as the grill roared to life.

"Good job, Maura!" Jane shouted from the other end of the patio, where she'd leapt to avoid being singed by the short-lived inferno, which had already died down to a low glow.

Maura beamed. "Okay, what next?"

"Next we give the coals time to get going. You have to wait until-"

"—until they glow red. I have seen _fire_ before, Jane."

"Mm-hmm." Jane eyed Maura skeptically. "Which is why you shrieked like a little girl."

"I did not shriek!" Maura cried. "And anyway, look who's suddenly ten feet away."

"You almost set me on fire! I think I got burned. Yeah," she said slowly, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of her mouth, "I definitely got burned."

"Oh?" Maura lifted an eyebrow and licked her lower lip. "Where?"

"Here," Jane said in her most pathetic voice, extending her hand. "On my finger."

"Well one of the most important immediate treatments for burns is to reduce the internal temperature to prevent ongoing damage," Maura said, crossing to her. "Most people think ice is the best solution, but that can add to the body's confusion. You want to return the affected area to normal body temperature as soon as possible." She grasped Jane's wrist gently, sliding her thumb up the palm, drawing Jane's hand close to her. "Hmm, it does look pretty bad," she said with mock gravity.

"Shouldn't you do something? You know . . . doctor-y?"

"Jane, are you asking me to play doctor with you?" Jane could swear Maura batted her eyelashes, just for half a second, and she felt a familiar warmth spreading through her body, extending to the finger with the ersatz burn.

Maura continued to stroke her thumb across Jane's palm as she examined the finger. "I suppose there's a thing or two I could try. These are strictly field techniques, of course; if I was in my lab I could come up with something much more effective."

"Well, give it your best shot."

Maura looked directly at Jane as she leaned forward and carefully captured Jane's finger in her mouth. She didn't stop looking as she sucked gently at the pretend injury, not even when Jane's eyes slid closed and her mouth dropped open just slightly.

"Better?" Maura asked brightly, standing upright again.

"Much," Jane mumbled. She coughed. "Let's, uh, check the coals." She moved to the grill, peered in. "Not yet," she called over her shoulder.

"It's only been a couple of minutes, Jane, of course they're not ready yet."

"So what you're saying is we should have a beer."

"I imagine that's what would be considered most appropriate for the occasion."

Jane nodded. "See? You're getting it!"

Maura shook her head, sighing. "Bring me one too," she said. "If I'm going to do this right."

"How does anyone think white wine with ribs is a good idea? Where does a thought like that even come from?" Jane rolled her eyes skyward. "Next time you invite me to one of your high-class barbecues you're letting me sneak in a cooler. In fact," she said as she went into the house, "you're _helping _me sneak in a cooler."

"Fine," Maura called after her. As soon as Jane was inside the house she darted to her rosebushes, frowning as she examined the leaves. "Oh darn," she whispered. "I'll have to call the Garden Society tomorrow morning."

"Maura!" Jane shouted from the doorway. "Step away from the rosebush and come drink this beer."

"All right!" Maura replied, not entirely hiding the anguished note in her voice.

She crossed the lawn and met Jane on the patio. "So what else do you do at a barbecue?"

"Well, you . . . talk, I guess."

"About what?"

"I dunno, sports?"

Maura stared at her blankly.

"Television?"

Nothing.

"Politi—no, let's not talk about politics."

"Why not? I actually know something about politics."

"Because you actually _know_ something about politics, and they put me to sleep."

Maura bit her lip, thinking.

"So small talk isn't your thing, it's fine. I mean, I already knew that so I had a backup plan."

"Which is?"

Jane grinned again and gently cupped the back of Maura's head, pulling her in for a kiss. Maura murmured in assent.

"This is a good plan," she whispered.

"I know, right?" Jane sat in a deck chair, pulling Maura into her lap. "The key to a successful party is spontaneity."

"I thought it was making sure you had enough alcohol."

"This is very important," Jane agreed. "But spontaneity, that's what really sells." She took Maura's chin between her thumb and forefinger, guiding Maura's face to hers.

The beers were warm and the coals were cold before either of them remembered they were meant to be paying attention. Maura demurely smoothed her hair and buttoned up her shirt while Jane poked slightly desolately at the thick gray ash lining the bottom of the grill.

"I guess I didn't really teach you how to barbecue," she said.

"That's all right," Maura replied straightening her skirt. "There's a place on Grantham that has a really good sauce."

* * *

Thank you for your continued reading! You guys! These stories are so silly and writing them is like a vacation. I'm glad you're enjoying them, tell yo friends! There are three chapters left and I'm deciding what to do for the two before the last one (which I've got mostly figured out already, even though there's no actual continuity or anything) and then I'll leave these little vignettes here to delight you in the days to come.


	8. The Bedroom

**The Bedroom**

"_Another_ one?" Jane groaned, flopping back on the bed, flinging her arm across her face.

Maura pursed her lips. "You'd think I was asking you to rewrite tax code," she said, whisking hangers across the bar with a terrifying efficiency.

"I'd rather be doing that," Jane grumbled.

"Really?" Maura paused, looked at her. "You'd rather be examining hundreds of thousands of pages of legal jargon related to extremely specific and obscure corporate shelter deductions?"

"Give me the dress." Jane held out her hand, not sitting up.

Maura sighed and marched over to the bed, dangling a simple green sheath in front of her. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with this one. No ruffles, no bows, no appliques—"

"No pants," Jane muttered.

"This is the symphony, Jane," Maura chided. "You can't wear pants unless they're part of a tuxedo, and even though I'm sure you'd be quite dashing, the symphony audience is quite a few years behind popular culture in terms of gender identity."

"You don't even know anything _about_ popular culture."

Maura frowned. "I know . . . _some_ things."

"Name one person nominated for a Grammy in the past ten years."

Maura sighed, rolled her eyes. "Even _I_ know nobody cares about the Grammys, Jane."

"I don't want to wear a dress!" Jane whined.

"Well," Maura said, biting her lip in thought. "Would it help if you saw what I'm going to wear?"

Jane sat up.

"Does that mean you'll be taking your clothes off?"

"And putting different clothes on."

"But the first part, that's true?"

Maura smiled. "I suppose if that's what it will take to get you dressed for our date, then yes, it means I'll be taking my clothes off."

"Good," Jane smiled, settling back on the bed. "Show me what you've got, I'd hate for us to clash."

"Jane," Maura sighed, "do you honestly think I'd be offering you options that would clash with what I'd already selected for myself? Especially considering of the two of us, I'm the only one I'd trust with a decision like this?"

"Jeez, Maura, you'd think we were talking about nuclear codes. It's just _dress_ codes. And I really do not understand why I have to wear one at all."

"Public nudity carries a heavy fine and possible jail time; as a detective I assumed you were aware of that."

"Thanks for the cop lesson, Lady Godiva," Jane muttered.

"It was a joke."

"I know it was. And it wasn't so bad, as far as . . . your jokes go. But please, _please_ do not make me wear a dress."

"Jane," Maura said, her voice low, sultry. "You know you're going to end up in a dress, so we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Jane lifted an eyebrow.

"Are you giving me a choice?"

Maura smirked.

"There's a reason I made us start getting ready at two p.m.," she said, slipping her shoes off. "You always pick the hard way."

"You love the hard way," Jane said, blushing slightly.

"I do find a challenging victory to be more exciting than a simple one on occasion, it's true," Maura grinned.

Jane gulped.

"What . . . uh, what makes you think you'll win?"

"Because, Jane," Maura purred, kneeling on the bed and sliding up until she was straddling her, leaning down so her hair tickled Jane's face, "I always win."

Jane gulped.

"Now," Maura whispered, "are you going to try on the dress?"

"I believe," Jane stammered, "you were going to show me yours."

"You'll have to unzip me," Maura said, smiling, "again."

"That's something you'll never hear me complaining about," Jane grinned. She grasped Maura's waist and deftly swung her around until their positions were reversed, Maura on her back, Jane hovering over her.

"Now the zipper's on the wrong side," Maura said.

"Patience, Dr. Isles." Jane drifted her fingertips across the exposed skin of Maura's neck, tracing the scooped neckline of the dress she was currently wearing. Maura closed her eyes, smiled, shivered. "You're the one who let me pick the hard way."

"I suppose I did," Maura murmured, gasping softly as Jane leaned close and ran the tip of her tongue up the length of Maura's neck, biting gently at her earlobe. Jane's fingers continued wandering over the curve of Maura's breasts, across the plane of her stomach, tracing the ridge of her hips.

Maura wriggled and sighed as Jane touched her, traced her tongue around the shell curves of her ear. She reached for Jane, smiled dreamily when Jane caught her wrist, guided her arm up over her head, pinning her to the bed.

"Don't forget we're doing this the hard way," Jane breathed into Maura's ear, making her moan and writhe, tugging just slightly against Jane's grip.

"Be good," Jane murmured, "or you'll be enjoying your boring old people and boring old music alone."

Maura narrowed her eyes. "Mahler is _anything_ but boring," she frowned. "The Fifth Symphony especially is quite-"

"Oh, well, if you'd told me it was _Mahler_," Jane teased. She swung her leg over Maura's body, straddling her hips. "So you'll be very good, then," she breathed, pulling Maura's other arm up, holding her wrists together with one hand.

"Very good," Maura murmured, her eyes dark, pupils huge, her voice rough and silky at once. Jane's eyes slid closed, she pushed her hips against Maura's, relishing the way Maura arched against her in response.

Jane grinned and nipped softly at Maura's collarbone, her free hand tangling in Maura's hair.

"Harder," Maura murmured throatily. Jane twisted her hand, tugging on Maura's hair, shivering at Maura's growl of pleasure.

"Tell me what you want," Jane rasped, squeezing Maura's wrists, pulling at her hair.

"I want . . . ohh, I want-Jane, is that your phone?"

"I don't care if it is," Jane breathed, her mouth pressed to Maura's neck.

"But it might be important!"

"More important than this?"

"It could be work. And do you really want to have to go into Lieutenant Cavanaugh's office and say 'sorry that murderer escaped, boss, but I was busy engaging in rough sex with your Chief Medical Examiner'?"

"Pretty sure he'd have my back on that," Jane muttered, not releasing her. "And wait, it was gonna be rough?"

"I thought you chose the hard way." Maura grinned wickedly. "It might get you out of the symphony at the very least, even though I wish you'd at least consider _trying_ to be excited about the Mahler; almost nobody does a complete evening of a single composer unless it's Beethoven, and I've already heard six Beethoven concertos this season."

"I just hate it when I get to the symphony and it's Beethoven _again_," Jane rolled her eyes.

"Answer your phone!"

"God, okay, I'm doing it," Jane grumbled. "Rizzoli. You stay there," she hissed at Maura. "Oh, uh, nothing, Jo was trying to eat my shoes. Yes, I know I need new shoes. Yes, I'll ask Maura if she'll take me, it'll be like her birthday and Christmas and the day they release the new Physician's Desk Reference all rolled up in one. What's up?" _Ma_, she mouthed, grimacing. "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, that's uh, that sure does sound terrible. Uh-huh. Yeah, I'd love to come help you and your cousin Teresa try to get her crackhead son off the water tower but we've got a whole division just for stuff like that. Why didn't you call Frankie, he's patrol."

Maura smiled and pushed herself off the bed, ignoring Jane's affronted stare. "Unzip me," she whispered, standing in front of Jane expectantly.

"Not fair," Jane whispered. "I told you to stay on the bed. Uh-Jo," she said, a frantic expression on her face. "Nothing, Ma, the dog just . . . uh, sure does love those shoes."

Maura smirked, sweeping her hair off her neck. Jane unzipped her dress, unable to suppress a faint groan of remorse.

"What's that? No, it's fine, just so sad about Teresa's kid. Call Frankie, love you, gotta go!" She threw the phone across the room. "You got off the bed," she pouted.

"One never knows what direction a call from your mother will take," Maura said, shrugging her dress off her shoulders. "And with dinner reservations at six, I didn't want to take any chances."

"Dinner? Please tell me it's cheeseburgers."

"They might have cheeseburgers at L'Espalier, but I doubt it," Maura said, her dress puddling at her feet.

Jane was too entranced by the sight of Maura's bare skin to complain for a moment.

"What, no mangling of French? No snide comments about escargot?"

"I'm, uh . . . I'm a little busy right now," Jane said, crossing to Maura and running her hands across her body, kissing her neck. "I'm sure L'Ice Capades will be great."

Maura giggled. The sound made Jane break into a wide smile, and she wrapped her arms around Maura, pulling her close.

"You should just wear what you're wearing right now," Jane mumbled in her ear.

"That thing I said about public nudity-"

"You're not technically nude," Jane said, sliding one hand over the soft lace of Maura's bra. "And this way you could be sure everybody would notice your outfit."

". . . and nobody would notice yours. Nice try, Jane." Maura turned to face her. "You're wearing a dress tonight."

Jane groaned and stamped her foot.

"Did you honestly just stamp your foot?"

Jane shrugged.

"Well, now you're wearing the one I like," Maura said, grinning.

"Wait, whoa, I take it back."

"No take-backs," Maura teased. "And why are you always so sure I'm determined to make you look ridiculous?"

"Because I _always_ look ridiculous in dresses," Jane grumbled.

Maura sighed and shook her head. "Quit being ridiculous, Jane, you're beautiful."

"But-"

"You're beautiful," Maura repeated, her tone brooking no argument. "And it is a pleasure for me to see you dressed up, and to know that I get to take you home at the end of the night."

Jane smiled bashfully. "I know the feeling."

"So will you please wear the dress?"

"I guess," she said, her tone exaggeratedly conciliatory.

"And you'll sit across from me at the restaurant and behave yourself when I mention how lovely you look by candlelight?"

"Awww, Maura!" Jane cried, kicking at the leg of Maura's dressing table. "Now I'm embarrassed. I'm already embarrassed. You have pre-embarrassed me."

"Good," Maura said, turning back to her closet, "you'll be prepared. Now," she said, pulling a soft gold V-necked dress off its hanger, "put this on."

"It's nice, I guess," Jane admitted.

"It's vintage Chanel, of course it's nice."

"So I probably shouldn't get ketchup on it, then."

"I'd appreciate it." She smiled as Jane set the garment carefully on the back of the chair at the dressing table, her fingers drifting over the fabric. "See?" Maura said. "You like it."

"Let's not go crazy."

"Being with you, Jane, I'm fairly certain going at least a little crazy is inevitable."

Jane leaned in and kissed her, tugging lightly on her hair. "what time is dinner?"

"The reservation is for six o'clock."

"And what time is it now?"

Maura glanced at the clock next to the bed. "Three-thirty."

"So," Jane said slowly, twirling a lock of Maura's hair around her finger, "it takes what, like a minute to throw a dress on? Even if it's a vintage Chanel?"

"But Jane, my hair-"

"People pay good money to have a stranger do to their hair what I'm about to do to yours for free. Unless you don't think the symphony audience is ready for that freshly-fucked look."

Maura blushed. "I always wanted to be avant-garde," she murmured. "And Mahler _was_ a Late Romantic."

"Aww," Jane smiled, kissing Maura's cheek, "that makes three of us."


	9. The Laundry Room

**The Laundry Room**

"I didn't _mean_ to get it all over you," Jane sighed.

Maura rolled her eyes and shook her head, scrubbing at the thick white stain on her sleeve. "You just meant to get a _little_ bit on me?"

Jane sighed again. "Okay, I didn't mean to get _any_ of it on you." She frowned. "Will it come out?"

Maura shrugged. "Possibly. If I can treat it in time."

"Sweater triage, huh?"

Maura smiled despite herself. She scrubbed at the stain, extending from cuff to elbow, and shook her head again.

Jane folded her arms.

"Okay, wait, hold on, _you're_ the one who thought paper maché would be a fun Sunday activity."

"It's _papier-mâché_, and it _was_ a fun Sunday activity until it ended up all over the dining room," Maura said, running cold water in the sink. "Honestly, Jane, it wasn't even a spider."

"It _looked_ like a spider," Jane said defensively. "And last time there was a spider _you_ said 'get a bowl,' and there was a bowl right there—"

"—a bowl filled with flour and water, and there _wasn't even a spider_."

"It was only half-filled," Jane pouted. "And I cleaned it up. Well," she said, "except for the sweater. 'Cause I would totally destroy it if I tried."

"Probably," Maura agreed. "Though it's all right, I don't really care for this sweater, which is why I wore it for this activity. But I must admit I do enjoy hand-washing garments on occasion."

"You would," Jane mumbled.

"I find it relaxing."

Jane rolled her eyes.

"And anyway, I hardly get the opportunity any more," Maura said, a touch of sadness in her voice.

Jane tried to suppress a snicker. "It must be terrible, not even being able to find the time to hand-wash your garments."

Maura ignored her.

"All right," Jane sighed. "I give. Why don't you get the opportunity?"

"It's just . . . well, Angela does most of my laundry-"

"What?" Jane cried. "You've got my mother doing your laundry?"

"Of course not, Jane!" Maura replied. "In fact, I—I wish she wouldn't."

"Yeah, that makes two of us," Jane grumbled.

"She just . . . does it. She's very good, I mean, but . . . still." Maura dropped the sweater into the sink filled with cold water. "It's a little unnerving to think of someone I know personally washing my clothes. It's one thing to take them to the cleaners, but it's . . . your mother."

"I could tell her to stop?" Jane shrugged.

"Oh no!" Maura said quickly. "Please don't. I don't want to offend her by refusing her kindness."

"No wonder she loves you so much," Jane said. "You're like, the perfect daughter _and_ the perfect houseguest and it's not even _her house_."

Maura blushed the way she always did when someone complimented her. Jane grinned the way she always did at the sight.

"I'm glad Angela is happy here," Maura said, almost shyly. "She seems to be, but I'm never entirely sure, especially because of, well . . ."

"Because of how you're standing at the laundry room sink with no shirt on and I'm about to take advantage of that?" Jane said, hooking her thumbs in her pockets.

"Jane," Maura gasped, "did you get papier-mâché paste all over me just to take advantage of me in the laundry room?"

"Nah, that's just a bonus." Jane smiled crookedly, sidling over to the sink.

Maura looked at her out of the corner of her eye, a sly grin pulling at the side of her mouth. She lifted the sweater from the sink and wrung it out carefully, draping it on a nearby drying rack.

Jane watched the lean muscles in Maura's arms and back flex as she squeezed out the water, smiling appreciatively. She slid her hand around Maura's waist, delighting in the softness of her skin. Maura shivered and turned to face her.

"Do you think the sweater's going to make it?" Jane whispered, her tone deeply serious.

"I think so," Maura replied. "I think I got to it in time. _Your_ shirt, on the other hand—"

"What's wrong with my shirt?"

"Aside from the color?"

Jane wrinkled her nose. "Yes, Mr. Blackwell, aside from the color."

"Well," Maura murmured, "it's got this terrible stain on it."

"What? Where?" Jane glanced down at herself, frowning.

"Right, um . . ." Maura looked straight into Jane's eyes as she slowly pulled her thumb across her lower lip then pressed it to Jane's shirt, leaving a faint pinkish spot. "There."

Jane gulped.

"Uh-oh," she whispered, her throat dry. "I should probably take care of that before it sets, huh."

"Oh Jane," Maura sighed, looking up at her with heavy-lidded eyes. "You'll ruin it if you try to do it."

"So you're saying I should call my mother?" Jane grinned.

"No, let's not bother her," Maura breathed as she reached up and slipped the first button free. "Why don't you let me take care of it? You know I don't mind."

"Okay," Jane said.

Maura slipped the second button free, then slid her fingers under the edge of Jane's shirt, letting them brush lightly across Jane's skin.

It was Jane's turn to shiver.

Maura worked slowly through the buttons, pausing at each one to run her fingers lightly across each new area of skin as it was exposed. Jane's breath was shallow, her hands unconsciously grasping at Maura's waist as Maura touched her.

"All right," Maura whispered when she'd run out of buttons, "let's get it wet."

Jane couldn't stop the groan from slipping out of her mouth.

"What?" Maura asked innocently, blinking up at her.

"I _know_ you know what you're saying sometimes," Jane muttered. "Was this one of those times?"

"Take your shirt off," Maura said, by way of answer.

Jane gulped. She released Maura's waist and slid the shirt off her arms.

"Now what?"

"Now take the little brush next to the sink and dip it in the water," Maura said, pressing herself against Jane's back, sliding her hand down Jane's arm, guiding Jane's hand with her own. Maura smiled as she felt goosebumps raising on Jane's skin, her pulse quickening.

Her lips brushed against Jane's shoulder as she spoke. "Now scrub at the affected area. _Gently_," she murmured, running her fingertips over the back of Jane's hand as Jane started to work the brush furiously. She smiled again as she felt Jane's sharp intake of breath, her shuddering exhalation.

"I never thought I'd appreciate stain removal so much," Jane said.

"You see what I mean?"

"Wait, how many peoples' stains have you been helping to remove?" Jane turned to look at her, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Just yours," Maura grinned. "I don't even get to handle my _own_ dirty laundry, remember?"

"All right," Jane said slowly, turning back to the sink. Maura kept one hand resting lightly on top of Jane's, the other running up and down Jane's side.

"And anyway," Maura murmured as her fingers ran down the faint xylophone of Jane's ribs, "I'm a little hurt that you think I'd be leaving my lipstick on anyone else's collar. Especially this one," she said, slipping her hand down Jane's stomach, toying with her belt buckle. "The color's been discontinued."

Jane snorted and shook her head. "Well I'm glad you think highly enough of me to ruin my shirt with it."

"Oh, did that offend you?" Maura asked. She pulled back slightly, suddenly concerned.

"No," Jane said, "of course not. I hate this shirt, that's why I wore it for paper maché."

"_Papier-mâché_," Maura sighed, resuming her manipulation of Jane's belt. "Ah," she said delightedly as she worked it loose. She felt Jane's heart beating wildly and bit her lip, pleased.

"How does that look?" Jane asked raggedly, holding the shirt up for Maura to inspect.

"Hmm," Maura said, pressing close against Jane to get a better look. "Fine work, Detective. You're sure to make Lieutenant any day now if this is the sort of diligence you bring to even mundane domestic tasks."

"Thank you, Doctor, but I doubt you'll always be there to . . . uh . . . have my back in such a . . . uh . . . such a literal . . ." she drifted off as Maura deftly unhooked the waist and slipped her hand inside Jane's trousers.

"You should probably set your shirt out to dry," Maura murmured, moving the hand resting on top of Jane's to her waist, sliding it across Jane's skin to cup her breast.

Jane pushed her hips back against Maura, a soft moan of pleasure escaping her lips. Maura grinned and kissed Jane's shoulder as she slipped her hand inside Jane's bra, smiling wider as Jane gasped and squirmed at her touch.

The shirt slipped to the ground, forgotten.

Jane gripped the edge of the sink as Maura pushed her hand between her legs.

"I should really spill things on you more often," she breathed.

"I think you manage to do it quite often enough," Maura replied, pulling her hands free. Jane whimpered slightly.

"I'm sorry?" she said, turning around. She shrugged. "I'm clumsy?"

"It's all right," Maura whispered, running her fingers from the hollow of Jane's throat down her body. She hooked Jane's waistband and tugged, Jane's trousers sliding off her hips. "I forgive you."

"Thanks," Jane gasped as Maura leaned in and kissed Jane's throat, her collarbone, the swell of her breast.

"Mm-hmm."

Maura continued leaving a trail of soft kisses down Jane's skin, her hands sliding down Jane's body as she made her descent.

Jane leaned back against the sink, holding it tightly and tipping her head back as Maura knelt between her knees.

"You didn't hang up your shirt," Maura murmured against the soft skin of Jane's inner thigh, causing her to shiver.

"I'll get it in a minute," she stammered.

"You think this will only take a minute?" Maura said, looking up at Jane. "Well, I _suppose_ I could abridge—"

"No," Jane said quickly, "no abridging. Nobody's abridging anything here."

"Then you should hang up your shirt before you have to wash it again."

"Maura, come on, you could eat off the floor in here."

"Hmm," she murmured.

Jane blushed scarlet though she wasn't entirely sure if it was because she realized what Maura's _hmm_ meant or because Maura's mouth was doing dizzying things to her. Her knees buckled and she caught herself on the edge of the sink, arching against Maura.

Maura pulled away abruptly, making Jane groan. "What?"

She held up Jane's shirt expectantly.

"Are you serious," Jane breathed. Maura cocked her eyebrow. Jane grabbed the shirt and flung it onto the rack with Maura's sweater. "Okay," she mumbled, "will you please keep doing what you were doing?"

"If you leave it like that you'll have to iron it," Maura sighed. "But if you're interested, I could give you a few pointers."

"I don't know if I've quite got the hang of getting rid of lipstick stains quite yet," Jane said. "I should probably get a . . . uh, a firm grip on that before I move on to ironing."

"I completely agree," Maura said, directing Jane's hips back against the sink. "I'd certainly be a poor teacher if I moved to a more advanced subject before I knew you were satisfied with your experience of the basics."

"Um," Jane said, blushing more deeply. She chewed on her lip, biting back a grin.

"Now I know you suggested one could eat off the floor in here," Maura ran her hands up and down Jane's legs. "But I'm sure the chemical residues from the detergents alone would—"

"Gross, Maura," Jane groaned. "Residues? Really?"

"You'll have to hold yourself up, is what I was getting at," Maura sighed against her skin, causing Jane to inhale sharply.

"Oh," Jane mumbled. "Okay." She held tightly to the edge of the sink again, her eyes sliding closed as Maura resumed her position between Jane's knees.

"Jane," Maura whispered.

"Yes," Jane whispered back.

"We're still going to finish that piñata for Korsak's niece."

"After we iron that shirt," Jane breathed. "I promise."

* * *

A/N: Wheee! I've got one more of these little gems left you guys, I hope you've enjoyed them!


	10. The Roof

**The Roof**

"I can't believe you made me come up here," Jane grumbled as she nearly lost her footing, sending a fine spray of crumbling asphalt shingle into the gutters.

"Well, _I _can't believe you weren't excited about going up on the roof," Maura said, stepping deftly across the small chasm between wings of the house. "It's fairly dangerous, and how often do I encourage you do dangerous things?"

"I do them all the time when you're not looking." Jane slipped sideways and flailed for a moment until Maura grabbed her hand to steady her. "I'm just usually on the ground when I'm doing them. What are you, part mountain goat?"

"I _told_ you I was Best Tree Climber at boarding school," Maura sighed. "I have an excellently calibrated inner ear."

"Your outer ear's pretty good too," Jane said, lowering herself to a sitting position.

"Thank you," Maura said, settling next to her. "I quite enjoy the construction of your _auriculae _as well."

"Thank you," Jane said, smiling with satisfaction. "I'm pretty proud of my arugulas, if I do say so myself."

Maura grinned, shaking her head. She reached into the small basket she'd been carrying since Jane had nearly dropped it when making the initial leap onto the roof, immediately disproving her bravado about her excellent climbing skills.

"Didn't you want to be a trapeze artist?" Maura laughed. "I don't know if I'd trust you to make it up the ladder."

"I just wanted to get paid to be on the swings," Jane said. "I was always really good at swings in school."

"I was good at math," Maura said, twisting a corkscrew into the bottle of wine she'd pulled from the basket. "And science. And spelling."

"Yeah, but were you good at _recess_?"

"We didn't really have recess."

"No recess?" Jane stared at her incredulously. "How did you—what did you—how did you not go insane?"

Maura shrugged.

"On second thought," Jane said, "you really like cutting open dead people. So maybe you _are_ insane."

"I also love _you_," Maura added, pouring the wine into a glass tumbler. "The evidence is mounting."

"Hey!" Jane cried, nearly losing her balance. "If you're not careful I'm gonna take it personally."

"If _you're _not careful you're going to fall off the roof, Jane, come over here," Maura said, tugging at Jane's arm. Jane scooted up and sideways, putting her arm around Maura's waist. Maura smiled, closed her eyes, then frowned as Jane fished in the basket next to her and pulled out a beer, withdrawing her arm.

"I'm gonna put it back," Jane murmured, popping the cap off the bottle. She grinned, then slipped her arm around Maura, wrapping her fingers around her waist and pulling her close.

Maura smiled again and leaned in to Jane, resting her head on Jane's shoulder. They sat for a few minutes in contented silence.

"Okay," Jane said. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Well." Maura took a sip of her wine and expertly balanced the glass on the center ridge of the shallow-pitched roof. "That's Orion, those three stars in the middle—"

"Yeah, I see it," Jane said. "I know that one."

"Okay, well, if you look straight up there's a zigzag, like a sideways W. Do you see it?" She pointed at the impossibly clear night sky, stars scattered across it like diamonds.

"Yeah, I think so?" Jane squinted in the direction Maura was pointing. "Like this?" She traced a shape with her finger.

"Yes, that's it. That's Cassiopeia."

"Cassie does _what?_"

Maura laughed. "Cassiopeia, Jane," she said. "It's not its brightest this time of year, but it's bright enough to see. It's named after a Greek queen who said her daughter was more beautiful than the Nereids—sea nymphs," she said in response to Jane's unasked question, "_very_ pretty. Anyway, she was forced up into the sky for eternity, clinging to her throne of stars so she wouldn't fall off and be swallowed by the night."

"That's . . . uh, cool?" Jane said, frowning slightly. "Seems like a pretty harsh sentence."

"I suppose," Maura said. "But there's something sort of romantic about being cast into the heavens as punishment for declaring someone more beautiful than the daughters of Poseidon, don't you think?"

"You're prettier than anyone's daughter," Jane said, "Well, except your mother's, I guess. I'll ride a comet around Jupiter forever if Zeus wants me to, but I stand by my word."

Maura blushed so brightly Jane could see it in the dark.

"Cassiopeia—the star, not the constellation—is what's left of a supernova; its light just started reaching us in the seventeenth century. So it's comparatively very young," Maura said.

"Uh, cool?"

"It's the light from a supernova, Jane," Maura said softly. "The most explosive kind of event in the known universe. An incredibly destructive force," she almost whispered, "but look how beautiful it is. To us it's something precious, it's a star. We only see the light, not the violence it was born from."

Jane stared at Maura's profile, tilted up toward the sky, lips slightly parted, a look of dreamy wonder on her face.

"I love you, Maura," she whispered. "I love everything about you."

Maura looked down bashfully. "What makes you say that?"

Jane shrugged. "You're just . . . amazing, is all."

"I took a year of astronomy at school," Maura offered. "There was a tower, and all the classes were at night. I suppose it made more of an impact on me than I realized at the time."

"I think it's cool," Jane said, holding Maura more tightly. "You know, like, pretty much everything. It really saves on my Googling time, too."

"Hardly," Maura said. "I don't know very much at all about violin repair, for example. Or how to chase down bad guys."

"You could probably chase down a bad guy or two," Jane said. "If you were wearing normal shoes."

"My shoes _are_ normal! They're just not made for . . . running."

"They're barely made for _walking_."

"You'd be sad if I stopped wearing them," Maura said mischievously.

Jane tried and failed not to acknowledge the accuracy of Maura's statement.

"Fine," she huffed. "I'd be sad if you stopped wearing fancy shoes."

"Thank you," Maura replied. "Look, Jane!"

"What?" Jane jerked her head up, nearly losing her balance again.

"This roof isn't even steep," Maura chided. "I'm beginning to think you're not even trying."

"I'm _trying_ not to fall off," Jane muttered. "So I'm not that great with heights, whatever."

"I didn't know you were afraid of heights. Acrophobia is quite common and nothing to be embarrassed about. Though I'm afraid it would've affected your childhood dreams of getting paid to go on the swings."

"I'm not like, _afraid_ of heights," Jane said crossly. "I'm just not, like, _crazy_ about them."

"Well, I'm very glad you agreed to join me up here," Maura said, leaning over and kissing Jane on the cheek.

"What was I supposed to look at?"

"It was a shooting star," Maura said. "We're very near to the Perseid meteor shower. It won't reach full intensity for a few more days, but if you watch carefully you'll almost certainly see at least one shooting star."

"I only need one," Jane said.

"What do you mean?"

Jane wrinkled her nose, embarrassed. "I mean, uh, I've really only got one wish."

"World peace?"

"Yeah, after that."

Maura smiled and settled close into Jane, wrapping her arm around Jane's bent knees. "What's your one wish, Jane?"

"I can't tell you," Jane said, "otherwise it won't come true."

"I don't know if I believe that," Maura replied. "I feel like the more you offer something to the universe, the more likely it is to manifest in your life."

"Oh my God," Jane groaned. "No more yoga for you."

Maura smiled and shook her head, sighing into Jane's neck. Jane swallowed hard.

"I'm just more vocal in my acceptance of the beauty of existence," Maura said. "I don't think there's anything wrong with that. And I don't think there's anything wrong with you shying away from it—"

"I don't 'shy away' from anything," Jane cut in.

"Mm-hmm," Maura murmured skeptically. "Anyway, I don't think there's anything wrong with you being hesitant to express your love of beauty and goodness, because I know you feel it, even if it's hard for you to say the words."

"It's not hard for me," Jane grumbled, "I just . . . it makes me feel weird."

"How is 'it makes me feel weird' not the same as 'it's hard for me'?"

Jane frowned.

"Okay," she said after a moment's thought.

"Okay?"

"Maura," Jane said, lifting Maura's chin so that they were looking into each other's eyes. "I think you are the most beautiful and wonderful and amazing person that I know, and since the people I know are basically the only people who have ever existed, I think you're the most beautiful and wonderful and amazing person who has ever existed."

"Oh, Jane," Maura stammered.

"I'm not done yet. I'm proving a point. And that point is that I will never be afraid to tell you how great I think you are, and how lucky I am to have you." She leaned over and kissed Maura gently. "So there."

"It was so wonderful right until the end," Maura said wryly. "I love you, Jane, and I think you're kind and caring and compassionate and gorgeous. You're even funny sometimes."

"That old chestnut," Jane groaned.

They sat on the roof, pressed together, for a long while.

"There's so many," Jane whispered.

"Billions," Maura said. "An infinitesimal number."

"That's a lot, huh."

"It's the literal definition of 'the most.'"

"I wonder if I'm not luckier than you," Jane said, "because when I look up, all I see are stars. I don't see queens falling off their thrones or . . . or . . ."

"Hardly any of the constellation myths are happy," Maura said. "Mostly dead lovers immortalized for all time, or gods or mortals being punished for hubris."

"Yikes," Jane whispered. "Yeah, all I see are stars."

"I don't know if you're luckier, it's just that our experiences are different. And I don't just see lists of facts when I look at them. I promise you, I see their beauty first."

"That's why I love you," Jane said softly, running her hand up Maura's back and stroking her hair, cradling her close. "That right there."

"Oh Jane," Maura sighed again.

"Plus you're _really_ good-looking."

Maura giggled. "Thank you," she said softly. "You're really good-looking too."

"Aw, whatever," Jane scoffed.

"You can deny it if you like," Maura said, "but I'm sure I'll have reason to tell you again."

"And I'll deny it again, I guess," Jane replied.

"Eventually you'll just give up and accept it."

"When have you ever known me to give up?" Jane cried, nearly slipping off the roof again.

"Maybe you should give up on violent outbursts," Maura suggested, "at least while you're twenty feet off the ground."

"Don't remind me," Jane said.

"Sorry."

They lay back on the roof, Maura tucked against Jane's side, Jane's arm around her shoulders.

"Look!" Jane cried suddenly, pointing at the sky. "There goes one! Wow, look how big it is," she breathed.

Maura turned her head to watch as the meteorite sparkled across the expanse of the night. She smiled and put her arm around Jane's waist, nuzzling her neck.

"Did you make your wish?" she whispered.

"I already got it," Jane said. "Here you are."

* * *

A/N AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! Thanks everyone for liking these little stories; they've been a delight. Housekeeping: the trapeze artist and fear of heights things are my own invention; the trapeze bit is a callback to the fifth chapter. And the spider thing in chapter 9, that's my own invention and a callback to the fourth chapter. This is a hermetically sealed universe, basically; it's a snow globe filled with glitter and rainbows and adorable and sex. WHAT COULD BE BETTER I ASK YOU.


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